Jenner's Not A Cereal Box
by mayanscaper
Summary: John brings back a plague from his trip back to Earth for which none of the UT inhabitants have immunity against.


1Jenner's Not A Cereal Box

By ixchup

Rating: PG for graphic descriptions.

Spoilers/Time Line: After Terra Firma but before Twice Shy in Season 4.

Note: Written for CatheringBruce who has a cold and wanted a hurt/comfort John fic and after Marcel sparked the interest and a Smithsonian Magazine article gave the idea. No betas were injured in the writing of this thing.

Disclaimers: I don't own the Farscape characters and will put them back safely when I am finished playing.

Part 1

A ten-day had passed since the Space Mountain ride though the wormhole and John just couldn't seem to get back into the groove of life in the UTs. He missed the comfort of denim sliding over his legs. He missed the soft scrunch as his feet slid into the boat shoes without socks. Sure, they'd brought back popcorn, chocolate, candy corns and other ephemera of life on Earth but they couldn't bring back the smile of a diner waitress as she poured more black coffee into the chipped white cup; the whoosh of a light saber in Luke's hand; or the out stretched scabbed hand on the small black body with the distended belly in Mogadishu who's face was all large soulful brown eyes.

For that matter, they couldn't transport the lick of an eager puppy or the cold bite of salt spray as he pushed the newly waxed board over the rolling tumblers out to where the waves rushed headlong towards the shore. He smiled slightly as he remembered the insane conversation he'd had with Bobby a few nights before the catastrophe. They'd been comparing the toughness of Buffy versus Faith and the general yuckiness of what the Mayor had eaten (he loved the Mayor); and then the conversation totally disintegrated into a listing of the unmanly features of Riley. John remembered laughing and tossing his nephew off the sofa where they both had been lounging. Bobby was definitely a Buffy-Angel man. Oh he would miss the geekiness of his love of pop-culture and the joy of sharing it with folks who understood. He would spring this stuff on his Moyan pals, but it was not the same. Man, was he homesick.

He counted his blessings and came up short. Yes, he loved his Mont Blanc fountain pen's scratching sound as he scribbled the equations in his new black-cloth covered journals and the happy jangle of the silly slinky he had grabbed on his way out of town. But he had wanted so much to have truly talked; to have shared the reality of his frelled-up life with Livvy and Dad but hadn't the words to convey how the constant running and the mounting death list had carved the joy out of his face. He never seemed to have the words enough or time. John sighed.

Christmas lights… Mr. Jingles… large unappetizing grinches and death colored his thoughts as he slogged his way from his quarters to the Center Chamber. He shook his head seeking to wipe the mental image of his two childhood friends their faces covered with the deep gouges that told of torture before bloody demise. He sighed trying to suck up the terror and regret. He felt tired, drained strangely enervated beyond what loss of sleep should bring. "Suck it up John," he thought. "It's over now. Done. Finito. Life moves on." He leaned on a bulkhead. Moya's soothing deep rumble felt like she was trying to push comfort through his tired body. God, he felt lousy.

He still couldn't shake the feelings of loss as he patted his pocket feeling for the small pouch of comfort. Nope, he wasn't gonna take another drag of forgetfulness. Olivia's tear tracks as she handed him the black lacquered box flashed before his tired eyes. Dad's last words stuck in his head as he pushed open the oval door straightening his shoulders with effort. Gotta give a good impression. Gotta hide the pain, the sorrow, and the hypocrisy of his sorry life.

D'Argo and Chiana looked up from the end of the curved table. They had obviously been deep in conversation from the way he was touching her wrist, gently slapping her hand away from the last of the crispy grolak on the shared plate. John suddenly decided he couldn't stomach the greasy strips of whatever it was made of. He felt hot and sticky and his joints ached fiercely. He turned sharply, aware of his friend's stares as he accidentally slammed his shoulder into the doorway in his haste to leave.

"Was he more farbot than usual?" Chiana asked her companion as she watched John ram his shoulder into the door and then stagger away without even a whimper. D'Argo only shook his head.

"No, but I can only imagine what leaving his home world must be doing to him. He hasn't been himself since I found him on Arnessk. D'Argo reached out for the last of the prowsa fruits only to be startled by the quick but gentle push as Chiana grabbed the globular goody from the bowl. He frowned. "John's been moody,"

Chiana shook her head vigorously up and down, "Yup."

"…morose," he continued oblivious to her chorus since she had a silly habit of sounding like a pronga bird at the worst times. He hated those talking red-beaked monsters ever since he'd been bitten on the hand by one many cycles ago. D'Argo snorted at his mental digression and continued his chronicling of John's current mental state, "…and strangely quiet."

Chiana nodded in agreement, but simply pursed her lips in thought of how strange a quiet Crichton was.

"But I haven't seen him so red-eyed and pale. I'll have the old woman check on him later."

Chiana nodded as she compared the current state of John Crichton to the happier times. She looked at the Luxan and smiled. "I-I think I'll take him this fruit. Maybe it'll cheer the old man up."

Chiana sidled up to Crichton's quarters and peeked through the closed grate. She startled and backup when she spied John lying spread-eagled on top of his covered bed. He was unconscious but it was obvious that he was not sleeping. Shivers shook his body but his skin was clammy and hot to her searching fingers when she finally had the guts to enter his room and try to push and pull his supine body into a more comfortable place on the bed. Suddenly, he rose up, opened his eyes wide and pushed the Nebari strongly off the bed. Chiana grunted and scowled as she tracked the man's location to the noisey sounds in the waste alcove.

When John failed to return, Chiana wondered over and leaned in thinking she would make a joke to comfort him. John was knealing on the floor with his hands grasping hard on the metallic rim of the funnel. It was obvious from the whiteness of his knuckles that this was the only thing holding him up. "Come on old man, I'll help you to bed," Chiana gasped as she uncurled his hand from the rim and threw his now free arm over her shoulder. She felt the heat rise up from his sweating body.

"Chiana, I think I've caught something from our time in LaLa Land. You should keep away."

"Crichton, I'm immune to your primitive diseases. Let me get you to bed. You rest. I'll get Granny to whip you up something."

John said nothing as she manhandled his boots and pants off and thrust his now nearly naked expanse under the rumpled covers. He tried to smile but grimaced as her not-so gentle handling hit him in his aching back. He mumbled what he thought was a reply but then subsided.

Chiana glanced at her obviously extremely ill friend and hurried away to find Noranti. More Earth gifts. Chiana shook her shoulders and moved more quickly.

It had been at least a weeken and there was no change in Crichton's condition. Aeryn, Chiana, and D'Argo sat in Zhaan's Appothacary. They had used all of the combined knowledge of their disparate worlds but John still lay tossing and turning on his bed. His fever spiked at optimum plus 15 the previous night when Aeryn came upon his screaming form where he lay by the side of his bed raving of Scarren teeth, something called a light saber, and some sort of combination demon robot named Adam. Aeryn was beside herself with quiet anxiety. She had noticed this morning when she brought him some enderon soup that his face was showing strange red raised bumps some of which were obviously filled with fluid. He had grimaced but rejected the offer of food. He had complained bitterly of pain in his mouth. When she had looked, she was horrified by the sight of those ugly blisters covering the inside of his mouth.

They hadn't seen Noranti for hours.

Part 2

He hurt. His back felt like it had been folded, pressed, and pinned. His skin burned and he was sure that his hands were on fire but when he moved his arms he could see the truth of the pustules on the palms of his blackened palms. His face felt stiff and when he licked his lips he could feel the blisters where they were growing. Something niggled at him but his sluggish mind could not wrap around it. High fevers, blisters, coughing lungs out, and the blood. Where had he read or seen this before? Where? Visions of small children lying in their dead mother's arms blasted his memory. There was so much death and dying. He was surrounded by it, inundated in it. Too much. But he had experience with this. Knew what it was. Only what was it? He couldn't put his finger on it. Too much blood. He looked up at Aeryn with blood-stained half-lidded eyes where she was adjusting the bed covers after removing the soiled, sweat-soaked remains of another agonizing night cycle.

"Aer-Aeryn," he mumbled. Something else bothered him. Something important. Something he had to warn her about. "Wha-w-how, how long?"

"Shhhh, Crichton," she responded. "A weeken. You've been like this a weeken. We've been caring for you in shifts. It is my turn now."

"Ah, ah" he cleared his congested chest and spat out the blood. He tried to push her hands away from the bed but only weakly batted at her wrists. "g, get away. No touching, No cure, no cure…all dead, all the natives," he whispered as he fell back asleep.

They had found Noranti's body stretched out on the floor of her quarters. Her hands were blackened as were her feet and face. She had tried to write something in her blood on the floor but all they could read was "plaq". Her last breaths were bloody ones whose excretions had blurred whatever she was trying to tell them.

Aeryn sighed and looked at her friend and former lover. He'd been saying that each time someone visited him. With Noranti gone and Chiana burning up with fevers and the same pus-filled blisters she really didn't know what to do and she was getting desperate. What was this thing? What had they brought back from that detestable blue planet of his? Nobody was here to solve the mystery. Pilot worked feverishly to find a Diagnosan but they were so far out in the Tormented Space that she had no clue or record of where to go.

Damn him. Damn his stubbornness. She still fumed at his deception. He was cheating. Cheating on their love with that drug of Noranti's. The past moments had been a disaster. Just when she thought she was learning and finally gaining a modicum of his trust back they land on his world. His frelled-up xenophobic beautiful, chaotic world. She shook her head and noticed as she wiped her brow that she too was sweating. Oh Cholak's cloak, now she was also coming down with it. She shivered but bent to her task. There was little time now to ruminate on what she couldn't change. She couldn't be a human. She couldn't pretend to understand the nuances of love Caroline and Jack showed her. How many words for love did humans have? John had shown her both sides and she hated this confusion. Hadn't she done everything he asked? Hadn't she come more than half way? Again she thought about the little black bulb and the damage it had done. She coughed as she straightened her suddenly sore back. What would be would be. Now she would never get together with her farbot human. It was such a shame. She looked down at her hands where they grasped the soiled bed clothes. These would have to be burned and spaced. Everything would have to be spaced. Even her love. There was no time.

Aeryn turned her thoughts to the current situation. She wondered if this fekkik plague would hold off long enough for her to find a solution by herself. Or…the thought sent shudders of dread at what John would think of Plan B…should she skip directly to the drastic solution. Was she desperate enough to call on Sikozou and Scorpius to assist in figuring out what new enemy had hit the crew. Only she hadn't seen the pair for days as she and D'Argo ran between John and Chiana's sick beds. And she worried further that D'Argo was complaining this morning of a headache and chills. Yes, she would skip to the obvious and move to Plan B. John didn't call her his frontal-assault girl for nothing. She smiled wistfully and tried to ignore her rising temperature. But her reddened cheeks belied her efforts. She shook her head and dropped the sheets she still clutched in her suddenly painful hands.

Looking once more at John Crichton where he lay insensible on the bed, she fled the cell. One thing at a time.

Part 3

John twisted his stiff neck and shifted a shoulder to grasp the water goblet offered by the orange-beige hands. He swallowed the water gratefully but it did nothing to sooth the aches of the sores in his mouth. He had no idea how long he'd been lying in this bed except for the gradual blackening of his hands and now wrists and the blood collecting on his pillow from his nose and mouth. God his cheeks hurt. He could feel the tightening when he grimaced. What was it about this dren that he should be remembering? He looked up blearily at Sikozou where she stood leaning over him just watching as usual.

"Crichton, there is no change to your symptoms. Can you tell me anything at all about where you were while on Earth. Did you touch anything or do anything to bring this on to the ship. I need to figure out how to solve this before everyone dies. You know it is your fault, so concentrate." Sikozou placed her hands on her hips and waited for him to regain enough consciousness to respond. "I've been taking samples of your blood while you were asleep and I've never seen such large virus cells. They are almost visible to the naked eye. I took a swab from your throat as well and the viruses there are the most developed and destructive. No wonder you are hemorrhaging. And now they are replicating rapidly throughout your body. Don't your people believe in pre-natal gene therapy to allow immunity to build up naturally? Such an ugly disease is uncalled for!"

John watched the Kalish expend her normal amount of energy on exposition and just hung in there, his mind racing along with her words. Large viruses, reproducing rapidly, pustules, bleeding, contagion from airborne stuff… "Ahhhh," he cried out. "Small pox! I've got small pox!" John couldn't believe that somehow he had brought this scourge on to the ship where no one had immunity, not even obviously himself. There was no cure. And it was his fault. One more minus sign for the erpman and this one was the last.

Sikozou backed away from the stricken man when he cried out and then approached closer again. "What do you mean, Crichton? The viruses are not small at all but very large. You must be more accurate. Do you know what this is?" She had been tending D'Argo, Aeryn, and Chiana around the clock as they lay supine in their cells. She had no medicine that did any good. Each one in turn had developed the high fevers, pustules, and terrible pain in their limbs. Aeryn was nearing total prostration from the high temperature and she had Scorpius carry her back to the cold room they had used monens before. She was stable now but unconscious. Then, this morning, Scorpius had suddenly collapsed, his skin reddened and his breath labored. She had to find a cure and John Crichton was her only hope.

John struggled to sit up and coughed blood from his sudden movement. He gagged and spat and then sagged back on the pillows. Oh man, he felt terrible and there was no end in sight. If he was right, then he had the worst possible type of small pox, the hemorrhagic type and very few folks survived that. He looked at his nursemaid and sighed. "Well, Florence, how are the other's doing?"

Sikozou, with surprising gentleness, wiped the blood off of his chin, "Chiana's fever is finally coming down and the bumps are starting to appear. D'Argo came down with the fevers and cough several arns ago, and Aeryn…" she paused and looked over to where he turned a shade paler than his current paleness, "Aeryn is not coming out of the fever but seems to only have low-lying red marks on her hands and the soles of her feet." She tilted her head and watched as John absorbed the news.

"So it is just you and me, eh Sputnik?" John felt even worse if that was possible. Death seemed to follow him everywhere, even into his home. He just couldn't shake the feeling that he was cursed. He looked down at his blackened hands and knew he didn't have much time. He had to come up with a plan. The solution lay with the eruptions. He knew it, but what was he supposed to do? Think John!

To gain some time, he asked hoarsely, "And what of the Dark Lord of the Sith?"

"He has come down with the same symptoms but seems to be controlling them admirably," she said starchly. "Crichton, have you any clue what to do? It is your planet's plague we are fighting."

"Just keep reminding me, Nurse Ratchet, and I'll just up and die and ya and then where will you and Nosferatu be? Eh?" John slid bonelessly down into a more horizontal position and stared at the ceiling. He knew he was just baiting her to get a rise and it wasn't fun in the current situation. "Aw, Sputnik, I'm just trying to keep my spirits up. I'm sorry. There is something you can do. You need to inoculate the others." John paused so he could catch his breath. He was loosing strength fast and who knew when he would wake again.

"Inoculate? What, take living viruses and give them to the others? That is barbaric."

"Yeah, well that's my backward-assed little planet for ya," John forced out between clenched teeth. "Let me speak while I can, and stop interrupting with your editorials. You, you need to take a needle and collect some of the pus from my super-ferocious acne here. Then scrape each of the others with it. It'll give them a fighting chance." John lost the battle with consciousness as Sikozou watched.

Sikozou looked at him with a worried frown. Such a weak species with such an indomitable will to prevail. She had to figure out some sort of anti-viral solution or Crichton had a very very short time to live.

Part 4

It was deathly quiet on Moya. The DRDs reported moment by moment from their discrete positions in Ka D'Argo's, Chiana, and Scorpius' cells that each person was totally incapacitated by the strange disease Crichton had brought back from Earth. Pilot worked feverously with the single remaining healthy crewmate. He reluctantly came to see that Sikozou's book learning had its uses as she rapidly ran through anti-viral protocols, rejecting each one as it failed to kill this particular bug. Meanwhile, Pilot and Moya worried most about Aeryn Sun where she lay in the cold room suffering the beginnings of heat delirium. Although she did not evidence the terrible pustuoles that covered the other's bodies, the high fevers of this illness affected her the worst.

Sikozou approached her bed cautiously, knowing full well that even in her debilitated state that Aeryn Sun was dangerous. Sikozou decided to try Crichton's farbot and simplistic solution. She had earlier collected samples of the wounds on Crichton's face. Taking a needle, Sikozou carefully dipped its tip in the gooey mess and scratched Aeryn's arm. She would watch and see Aeryn's reactions before inoculating the others.

Hours passed without a change in Aeryn's temperature, athough her coloring was beginning to clear from its awful redness. Sikozou sighed as Aeryn stirred.

"Wha- wha- where am I?" Aeryn asked groggily as she sought to roll over to her side on the hard surface of the bed.

"Aeryn, you have been very ill with some sort of pox disease that Crichton brought back from Earth. I was very afraid you would not recover. Would you like some water?"

"How- how long?"

"A few solar days." Sikozou passed Aeryn a cup of water and stood away from the bed allowing Aeryn the freedom to sit upright.

Aeryn swayed and would have fallen over if Sikozou's hand hadn't grasped her shoulder. She was weak and dizzy, but not as hot and the terrible inner heat was dissipating. "What of Crichton?" She asked.

"He is not good. He has suffered longest of all of us and I fear that the scratches he provided for you will not work on him because he told me he had been treated in his childhood in that fashion. It seems that his primitive planet has some dangerous viruses totally in keeping with those human's inept way of treating the sick." Sikozou stepped back towards the door. She was feeling anxious to leave so she could treat Scorpius with the remains of the live viruses before they died. "If you don't need me, I wish to treat the others with this vaccine before its potency wears off."

"Would you help me get to John, please." Aeryn hated sounding so weak, but she had to see his condition for herself. She took a deep breath and pushed herself off the bed. Wobbling, she made it to the door. Sikozou nodded and wrapped her arm around the taller woman's waist, holding her steady for the long walk back to the crew area.

Aeryn stood in John's doorway and starred at the bed where he lay tossing and turning. His body was riddled with open sores. He alternately sweated and shivered. "Aeryn." She heard him whisper over and over again.

"John," she called as she pulled herself closer to his bed and dropped down to sit on the floor at its side. "Can you hear me? Stay with me."

John heard her voice as if through a tunnel; its smoky tones echoing in his ears. He struggled to wake enough to look at her and managed to half-prop his eyes open. "Aeryn," he sighed. "I, I had the most terrible dream."

"Shhhh," she said softly. "Save your strength."

"I have to tell you-"

"No, you don't" she replied. "Not here, not now It will wait."

"No, I have the feeling I'm not coming back from this thing." John coughed fiercely and tried to drive enough breath through his lungs. He felt the coppery bitterness of blood on his lips. "I- have to say this. I gotta. Aeryn, I would have said stay."

Aeryn looked down at her trembling hands and shook her head. "I know."

John tried to lift his hand to brush the sudden tear that had dripped on to her open palm but lacked the strength. "I have been an ass. I don't need to know who the daddy is. All I need to know is that you are the mother. I love you Aeryn Sun." His voice was faint and reedy. He lay back and shut his eyes. There, he had said it. He loved Aeryn Sun more than Scorpius' threats or blackmail could withhold. He hoped she understood because he lacked the energy to explain further what had provoked his coldness. He felt the blackness on the edges of his consciousness and fought it, his eyelids fluttering. And all was still.

Aeryn watched John struggle with his exhaustion and loose the battle. She didn't quite understand all the implications of John's confession but is import drove away the dregs of her fears. He loved her. Whatever else he was trying to tell her about his actions during the past few months were immaterial. They would wait. Now she just had to somehow save him.

Aeryn pushed her way more slowly than she liked down Moya's corridors. Stopping frequently to catch her breath, she brushed the sweat from her brow and hoped that she had passed the danger point of the disease. She kept seeing John's rash-filled form in her mind and moved forward more rapidly. By the time she arrived in Zhaan's apothecary, she was exhausted but refused to back down or admit her weakness. Sikozou turned to face her from over at the table with its array of microscopes, dishes, and drugs. "It is no use, Aeryn. The virus will not yield. I have inoculated everyone, including Rygel, but I have found no cure for Crichton."

'You just have to look deeper, then. Tell me what to do to help." Aeryn said as she approached the table. "You always give up too quickly."

One by one Moya's crewmates tottered up to Crichton's cell checking his status, but John showed no sense that he was aware of their presence. Days passed and their scabs dried, crusted, and finally fell off. Each person slowly regained their stength, but John grew no better. His face was sunken and sallow. He was kept alive by the small bits of broth and water he was able to take in during his more lucid moments. Aeryn sat doggedly by his side when she wasn't harassing Sikozou about her inability to solve the puzzle of the human virus. He was fading from her and there was nothing she could do.

Sikozou had been searching through Moya's databanks with Pilot's assistance when she came upon a cryptic reference to a disease on one of the myriad Sebecean colonies in Known Space. The disease caused pus-filled blisters and a very high fever that often brought on heat delerium before the anti-viral medication could be administered. There was often panic and lawlessness that followed an outbreak. It was called Cholak's Revenge for its virulence. So, she thought, there is a cure.

Moya had been carefully skirting Peacekeeper territory on the off-chance that a diagnostician could be safely reached. D'Argo had asked Pilot to ensure that Moya did not starburst in fear since who knows where she would end up. He knew that Grayza would not relent in her pursuit, Now, with the news of a possible solution, he wanted to take the chance to contact a Sebecean-offshoot world. Somebody had to know the cure.

Aeryn sat next to his bed, her head nodding with fatigue. She knew that D'Argo was taking a risk and calling out to habitable worlds. What was the chance that Grayza would respond? She hadn't a clue, but at this point, even the hospitality of Mel-on Grayza would be more welcome than the slow descent to Death that John was following. In fact, with Scorpius beholden to her, it seemed the best chance of survival for John was if he could contact someone, anyone out of his purported network. Someone had to have a cure. She lightly touched John's arm, avoiding the painful sores. There had to be a way out. She couldn't loose him again. She sighed and sat back in her chair to wait.

Part 5

Aeryn Sun sat very still in the chair she had pulled up close to John's bed. Her eyes were closed but she was preternaturally aware of the buzzing of the DRDs as they went about their business; the gentle throbbing of Moya's heartbeat as her nutrients surged through the uncountable tubes and relays the composed her circulatory system. Aeryn did not move but the rapid eye movements betrayed her emotions. Arns had passed her by as John sunk deeper into the coma. She could actually see him leaving her whenever she dared open her eyes. His body seemed to sink into itself as he slowly faded away.

Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper Officer, Icarian Battalion, Pleisar Regiment, lover of an alien man and possibly mother of his child, felt as if her sanity balanced precariously on the edge of that beds she sat beside. All of her energy was pushed into hoping, almost praying, that John Crichton would live. She was at her wit's end. She wracked her brain for tactical scenarios that would provide a win, but kept shying away from the most obvious solution; namely end his pain. She couldn't see a way out. She remembered the other John and how he lay there; red blotches marring his face and neck as the radiation slowly cooked him from the inside out. She remembered his pain and how he tried to hide it from her. She remembered his last wishes and how he struggled to show her his love as the lights faded out of his eyes. She couldn't go through that again.

This John had shown her his world. She had met his dad and found herself loving the older man and the sister as if she had finally met her own family. More so even, since her family relationships led only to death and disgrace. Again, her mind shied away from personal and painful memories. She would end this John's pain, and soon. But she so wanted to speak to him one last time. To tell him that it was all right. To tell him that she even forgave him the cowardly way he had relied on drugs to numb his emotional pain and turmoil. She wanted to tell him that she had also done many things in her life that were hateful and destructive to others around her and that she still struggled to meld the person she had become with the person she once was. She wanted to hold him and give him her strength to add to his own stubborn insistence on always doing the right thing. If only he would just rally and live. She squeezed her hands into fists and sought to not slam them on her thighs. John stirred but did not open his eyes. Sweat beaded his forehead. She released her fists and grabbed a cloth. She leaned over to wipe the moisture away and heard his faint voice mumble her name.

She lost it then and threw the damp towel across the room, and slamming the chair back against the wall stormed out of his quarters.

Scorpius was feeling much better since Sikozu had provided the human's cure to the affliction that had laid him low. He lay in his cell staring at the ceiling waiting for Officer Sun to arrive. He figured that his was the only counsel she would take to solve the problem of healing John Crichton. He smiled as he heard her arrival and nonchalantly glanced over to the barred door where she stood ramrod straight. He had a plan but he needed her support.

"Scorpius, I am here to collect on a bargain you and I struck several monens ago. I need your help." Aeryn looked down at the floor and then back directly into the eyes of the half-breed where he now stood next to the door. He never twitched a muscle as she suddenly released the lock and stepped through the now open entrance. "I see that you are well again," she stated.

"And you as well," he replied. "I am assuming the help you wish for is some way to save John Crichton's life. In this we are in complete agreement. There is no bargain or deal that needs to be struck. I was waiting your arrival as I do not trust Captain D'Argo nor any other person on this ship to convey my ideas or support them."

"Nor would they have come to you either," she responded. She was not surprised that Scorpius was steps ahead of her as he always was. That was his nature. "I want you to contact someone, anyone who knows of this Sebecean cure."

"Officer Sun, you know that I am persona non gratis to the Peacekeepers at this moment. I have no more networks in Sebecean space than you do. You know what you have to do. There is no other choice." Scorpius searched her face for evidence that she understood what he was suggesting. He smiled as her complexion whitened and her lips thinned. "You must go to Commandant Grayza and strike a deal for amnesty. Only the on the Command Carrier does John Crichton stand a chance."

"That is no solution, that is John's death warrant," she coldly stated (while inside she was crying with the reality that what he was saying was actually the only solution). "I will not betray a member of this crew. There must be another way."

"There is no other way than taking Crichton to the command carrier. You must understand that while you were gone things radically changed. I no longer have a position. High Command has deemed me irredeemably contaminated. So we are in the same position, you and I. Did you ever question why I was looking for you? Did you ever wonder why I needed asylum on this ship of lunatics?" It was Grayza who betrayed me. It was Grayza who I despise for her ideas of appeasement with the Scarrens. I would no more wish to deal with Grayza than I would wish to meet my own mother again. And yet, hers is the only ship where Crichton can successfully find a cure. I do not suggest this lightly or for my own aggrandizement."

Aeryn could no longer look at his face. She starred at the floor. Her mind was racing. She really hadn't given much thought to why Scorpius was hunting for her or why John had taken to the drugs other than what the old witch had told her. There was a mystery that she had no time to solve. Time, there was never enough of it. And now, Scorpius was telling her that the only way to save John was to give him up to his enemy. It was obvious that Grayza wanted him for more than just the wormhole knowledge that everyone seemed to want Crichton for. Why else would she be following Moya to the detriment of her position and all logic. Why else would she have sent that creature who attacked John's family and killed his friends. Why indeed. That woman wanted revenge for something. Should Aeryn bargain for the life of her lover? Had she any other choice?

Scorpius waited patiently while Aeryn pondered his suggestion. He knew in the end he would win. There was no other choice. And hopefully he would solve two problems with this one single solution: heal John Crichton and kill Mel-on Grazya. He could feel the success. Scorpius made no move, not even a twitch of his fingers as he waited. He had patience.

Aeryn straightened her back, and looked him in the eye. "I have to reluctantly agree with you, Scorpius. We must get John to the command carrier. It is the only way of saving his life. You would not suggest such a risky operation without some fall back way of protecting your quarry. Come clean with me. How will you protect Crichton's life after he is healed. What is in it for you?

Scorpius chucked and it was a ghastly sound. "Well, I have my contacts still and I assure you that if you provide a bargaining chip that Grayza will honor a truce. Do you have any way of providing Grayza with something she could use? You know what she wants. I am willing for the sake of Crichton's life to share wormhole technology with her. Are you?"

Aeryn was appalled at what she was about to commit. She had John's books filled with his intricate formulas and analyses. It was everything John knew about wormholes and her. She was about to trade those sacred books for his life. She hated herself and hated Scorpius and this entire frelled up situation. But she would do it because she had to. "I have access to Crichton's notes on the wormhole tech. I will trade those books for John's life." There, let the future fall where it may. She knew when John found out what she had sold for his health he would never look at her the same again. She would loose him to save him. So be it.

Ah, he thought, here is the heart of the matter. He could see what he had been hearing all the monens of monitoring communications on Moya. Aeryn Sun would do anything to protect her lover. He had sensed the relationship but had no proof until now. He felt almost sexually aroused he was so pleased with how his plans were coming to fruition. I will achieve the destruction of the Scarren home world yet and the wiping out of all of their progeny. I will do it through Mel-on Grayza and I will see to it that all blame falls on her shoulders and I will see her death. Scorpius looked at Aeryn Sun and said nothing but the smile foretold of terrible things to come.

Aeryn glanced once more at the abomination who stood before her. She had to get D'Argo and through him Pilot and Moya to agree to a meeting with the Carrier. She had to find John's books, and lastly she had to contact Mel-on Grayza and implement this farbot plan.

Part 6

Aeryn looked at her fellow crewmates and inwardly cringed at their pock-marked faces and wan complexions. Each of us bears the scars of our trip to Crichton's home world. Some bear them outwardly and others inwardly, but somehow we have to crawl out from under this curse. She said nothing of her thoughts as she faced D'Argo, Chiana, Rygel, Sikozu, and for this meeting Scorpius. She couldn't stop clenching and unclenching her fists as she fielded their arguments against going to the Carrier. They seemed to all boil down to the repercussions to the mystery that was Arnessk. And she had no answers for that.

"Enough!" she stated in a loud enough voice to drawn out another round of comments from Rygel and Chiana about how farbot her and Scorpius' plan appeared to be. "I am taking John to the Carrier and I am brokering a deal for his life. I am doing this and you do not have to be a part of it. So enough talk."

Command's bulkheads and floor seemed to echo with the implications of her unilateral decision. Pilot's head appeared in his frame and he added a shrill squeal that cut through the silence startling the tense faces of six combatants. "Moya wishes to add her vote to Officer Sun's decision. In her and my opinion, although you did not ask us, we are willing to approach the Carrier so that the Commander can be healed. We are willing to take this risk because we trust Officer Sun with our lives."

"Thank Moya, Pilot, for her and your endorsement. I know this is an enormous risk and I am aware that I still do not have all the information about what happened while I was away that makes you all so fearful of Commandant Grazya, but John's life is much more important than old history. Pilot, if you would send out a call to the Carrier I would appreciate it."

"Already accomplished, and we already have a response that the Carrier awaits our arrival at Betan Six. Prepare to Starburst."

Betan Six as a barren planet surrounded by literally thousands of small moons orbiting a red dwarf. It's dark pallor and looming rocks that floated in the primordial soup of the dying star matched the dread felt by Moya as she approached close enough to the waiting Command Carrier to open communications.

Aeryn again stood on Command silently watching as Moya deftly dodged the floating debris of this ancient system. Her thoughts remained down in the crew quarters where John lay wasting away with no change in his condition. She knew time was short. She cleared her mind of this distraction and sought to concentrate on what she would say to Commandant Grayza.

"Officer Sun," Pilot broke into her thoughts, "Commandant Grayza is ready to speak to you now."

Grayza's pale gray face framed by her severe black hair held Aeryn's attention as she spoke from the view screen. "Officer Sun, I understand that you have a proposition to present to me. I want you to understand that I do not make deals with criminals and traitors. Hand over yourselves and this renegade leviathan and I will go easy on you."

Aeryn stood at attention, hands clasped behind her back to hide their tenseness as she nodded. "Yes, I figured you would say that, Commandant. But I wish to change the balance here. I realize that you have many motives for our capture, one of which is to obtain the wormhole technology held only by John Crichton. Well, John Crichton is dying."

Aeryn watched as Grayza's face turned slightly more pale and her violet eyes darkened. There was no sound on either ship as Aeryn's news filtered across the void.

Aeryn watched as a deck officer whispered something into Grayza's ear. Grayza took her time adjusting her tunic and turned to face Aeryn straight on. "I assume you want amnesty for your crew while we patch up Crichton? What are you offering that has more value than a dead John Crichton?"

It was Aeryn's turn to square her shoulders and "face the music" (an English phrase she still didn't quite understand until now). "I have Crichton's research, his notebooks. I will give you wormhole technology for the life and safety of John Crichton." There, it was in the open and her life would never be the same again. She had betrayed John for his own good and she hoped that whatever god guarded her fate would show mercy on her for this trade because she knew John would not.

"Give me one arn to think over your proposal. In the mean time, send me any information about Crichton's illness so that IF I accept your trade we can move quickly to a solution. I will expect Crichton to explain his notes and work with us once he his well again. That is my part of the bargain and there will be no negotiating."

D'Argo and Chiana stood silently at the doorway to Command watching the events play out. This time there would be no I-Yench bracelets and no ace in the whole wild leviathan gunship to rescue them as they stepped on to that Carrier. D'Argo looked at Chiana who looked back at her erst-while lover. They both silently had made the same decision—to follow Aeryn and John on to the Carrier and watch their backs. The scars would be more than surface mutilations when this was over. One way or another something would die. D'Argo snorted and responded to Grayza, "Pilot, tell the Commandant that we will speak in one arn."

Aeryn ws startled at the anger in his voice. She guessed she shouldn't be, given that D'Argo had remained remarkably sanguine during their long debate over whether to ask Grayza for help. "D'Argo, how long have you been standing there watching?" Aeryn asked as she strode over to the table in the center of the room and fell heavily on to its bench. "I will assume that they will agree to my proposal and we will be saying our goodbyes within the next few arns."

"No, Aeryn." Chiana spoke up for the first time as she stood swaying and cocking her head in agitation. "We are going with you. We are a family, a team and wherever you and Crichton goes, we do to. Besides, who will watch your back when things go sour. And you know that we are jinxed and our plans always go bad." Chiana laughed lightly and sat down next to Aeryn at the table.

"There is no need for you to place yourself in danger. This is my fight and my farbot plan. Stay here on Moya. Somebody has to watch Scorpy and Sikozu and make sure that they do not make trouble."

"No," D'Argo said while checking one of the tables for a reading on the Carrier. "As I stated long ago; if you can be an idiot so can I. We are going with you. John may need us."

Aeryn smiled at her family. They were committed to lunacy together.

An arn later they received their reply: wormhole technology for John's life. Chiana shivered as she realized what Aeryn had done and hoped that John would survive this descent into Grayza's world. Someone would have to tell Aeryn the entire story of Arnessk or there would be no way out. First things first. Heal then run. She stalked out of her quarters with traveling coat in hand to join her compatriots on the transport pod that would take John and the rest of the crew to their destinies.

Part 7

Braca sent two medics with a grav stretcher to carry John on to the Carrier. Aeryn followed closely as she still did not trust the bargain that had been struck. She carried John's notebooks in a satchel close by her side never taking her eyes off of John's unconscious form. The medics and accompanying commandos were silent and vigalent, but Aeryn knew what they were thinking about the transport of this known criminal and unclassified alien. She partially agreed with them about how frelled a situation this really was.

D'Argo gently settled Lo'La next to the Marauder in the designated hanger and shut down its engines. He left the security force field and awareness of its computers intact. There was no telling if they would need her services. Chiana hadn't said a word as they navigated the space between Moya and the Carrier. Moya had agreed to hid behind one of the larger meteors and follow the Carrier closely if it left the Betan area. There were so many variables in this fekkik scheme of Aeryn's. Chiana glanced at D'Argo and knew he was voicing the same sour thoughts about their history with the Peacekeepers and Grayza in particular. Well, they were committed to it. D'Argo nudged Chiana forward and both crewmates stepped down Lo'La's steep stairs.

D'Argo and Chiana met the Peacekeeper reception committee with typical bravado. Chiana stepped forward directly into the personal space of the nearest soldier and asked, "Where can a girl get a drink around this boat?"

The soldier blinked and relaxed slightly as his superior nodded her head. "10 Forward, but my orders are that you are to first report to Medical for a complete physical to ensure that you are not brining contaminants on to this ship."

"That's okay with me. Is it okay with you, D'Argo? I want to get something for these pock marks anyway, Then we can relax and rejuvenate, right?" Chiana cocked her head and butted her hip into the hip of the soldier and looked him in the eye.

The Officer spoke to the head tech as the aliens were herded out of the hanger. "Run the decontamination protocol for the hanger and every person who came into contact with the aliens must present themselves for deconamination drill as soon as possible. I will be reporting to the Commadant and shall be detoxing should you require further instructions."

Aeryn patiently followed the decontamination protocols, shedding her duster, leathers, and weapons as per instructions. They had already stripped Crichton and carefully placed him back on the grav sled. Both Aeryn and Crichton were pushed through the biometric light array and declared clean of alien microbes. She was inwardly seething at the bureaucratic delays as she saw evidence of John's continued decline in his almost rictus-like facial features and boney hands and wrists. He continued to sweat and moan in his sleep as they finally pushed him into the Medical Section and lifted him on to a bio-reconstruction bed.

"I am Lead Medic Carso. I understand you have a data chip with all of the history of this man's condition as well as laboratory results?"

Aeryn nodded and silently handed over the chip.

A swarm of medical technicians gathered around John's bedside hiding him from Aeryn's view. She watched as they hooked John up to many monitors and immediately began the arduous process of drawing blood samples and running rapid analysis. Time seemed to slow down as she tried to follow what was occuring.

She had confidence in the ability of the Carrier's medical department but she felt a sliver of dread at what John would be required to go through to rid his body of the malignant virus.

Peacekeepers had a long history of dealing with alient viruses but their cures sometimes did not take into account the host since the goal was to erradicate the menace before it could infect a ship's personnel. Aeryn shuddered at her memory of the last medical alert she had lived through. An entire platoon slaughtered before a particular virulent microbe had been conquered. She had assurances from Grayza that John would not meet a similar fate. The one hope she had was that Grayza also did not wish John to die since he was unique in the galaxy and as John had repeatedly told her, unique is special.

Aeryn noticed that Chiana and D'Argo were set up in a more ambulatory section of the Medical Center . She hadn't the energy to wonder if there actually was a treatment that would rejuvenate their complexions removing the pock marks from their bodies. She guessed she would ask but at the moment such an issue seemed superficial. From the corner of her eye she saw her crewmates leave and wondered idlely if they were being treated civally, but again lacked the mental energy to care. At the moment, all she wanted was some sort of prognosis regarding John. It had been arns since he was brought in and still there was no word on his condition.

Aeryn paced back and forth like a panther, memorizing the white steelskin blemishes on the four walls and flooring of the waiting area. Periodically, she would return to the entrance to the medical area only to be sent away. This time, she decided, she would not take no for an answer.

Aeryn burst through the entraceway to the Intensive Care Unit and strode up to the bed where John lay quietly. His color was more rosey and he was not sweating, but the blackening of his hands remained plain to see. As she reached out to touch his blemished face one of the medical technicians rushed over and grabbed her arm.

"Careful! He has been flushed of the malignant virus through the use of a bio-computer agent but the nanites are still contained in his body. Any touch will cause Crichton much pain as the agents will rush to the site of the disturbance. We must wait at least 10 arns before he can be moved. In the mean time, we are covering the bed with an isolation chamber to ensure his safety." The Medical Technician deftly moved Aeryn away from John's bed as he spoke. "Your mate, and I assume you are Officer Aeryn Sun, has taken a turn for the better and should recover with time, but it will be a slow process as he has lost much blood and we do not have a replacement."

"May I remain near him during his time in isolation?" she asked. "I know he will be confused when he awakes."

"Yes, wait in the area and we will alert you as to his status and when it is safe to return."

The arns passed slowly. Aeryn left once to find out the status of D'Argo and Chiana only to learn that they had retired to their assigned quarters. She was surprised that they hadn't checked on John's status but figured that they did not wish to disturb her in her wait. She was slightly annoyed, but again truly did not care. She got a drink and something to eat and returned to her pacing. At the eleventh arn, the Medical Technician who had given her the news appeared at the door and waved her inside.

"He is awake but very disoriented. All he does is call your name."

Aeryn barely heard the medic's words as she ran to John's bed. She knelt down so as to be nose to nose and waited as John slowly returned to consciousness.

John felt light as if he was floating on a cloud or enmeshed in cotton candy. For the first time in weeks he didn't hurt, burn, or itch. He tried to open his eyes but it felt as if somebody sewed gold bullion on to his lids. He then tried to roll over on to his side where he was more comfortable and discovered that he couldn't move. He struggled, but soon realized that he lacked the strength to even push his arm over his hips to start the rolling process. He frowned and tried to open his eyes again, if only to figure out why the color behind his lids seemed to be brighter than what he was used to on Moya. "Hey, turn down the strobes," he tried to say, but it came out as a grumble even to his ears. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "Hey."

"Hey yourself."

It was the most precious voice in his life yet what could she be doing by his bed when he had spent so much time pushing her away. There must be something serious going on to bring Aeryn to him. He struggled to speak, "Aer... Aer..."

"Shhh, you've been very ill, John. You in the Medical area of a Command Carrier. We brought you here to cure you." Aeryn tried to be very rational hoping against hope not to arouse his anger when he could least afford the energy.

"Wha d'you mean, Med Center?" he slurred as he fought for more alertness. "Are you okay? How 'bout the other guys?" He gasped at the long sentence and shook his head. "This makes no sense."

"John, you had something you called little pocks and it almost killed you. We brought you here because we were at our wits end. Your farbot cure worked for the rest of us, but there was no way to kill the virus in you. I didn't know what to do. So, I made a bargain for amnesty to get you the help you needed."

"Wha' type of bargain, Aeryn?" John suddenly looked much more alive as her words broke through his fugue. "What did you give them?"

"Wormhole technology from your notebooks, John." she whispered. "And a promise of your support."

John turned pale and suddenly found the strength to roll away from her. He rasped out, "Who's Carrier is this? Who runs this place, Aeryn?"

"Grayza."

John finished his roll away from Aeryn and curled up into a tight ball as if in deep pain. "I'm very tired now and wanna sleep. Go away Aeryn. Go away and lemmie sleep."

Aeryn knelt at his side with her mouth open in astonishment. It was as if John melted away from her at the sound of the Commandant's name. And the mystery must lie at Arnessk. She expected anger from John or maybe sadness that she had to make such a deal, but never the abject fear and loathing she saw on John's face. Aeryn sighed and leaned against the wall to wait. It would be a long recovery.

Part 8

It took awhile for John to finally collect himself and get his fear under control. He rolled back over expecting Aeryn to be still sitting on the floor with her back to the wall. He actually was relieved to find her space empty and silence where before he had heard faint sighs. He tried to get comfortable on the bed, but there was not a place on his body that wasn't sore. John felt like crap. The pox might be gone, but between the stress and the residual weakness and painful sores he could barely function. And then there was a rising tide of nausea that he couldn't figure out. He signaled rapidly for a medical technician, praying that they would come before he lost his control. Suddenly, he leaned over the side of the bed as well as he could and totally lost it. Out came chunks of black hard-edged objects mixed with red blood and bile. "Gawd!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "What the hell was that!"

The medical technician arrived with the outburst and calmly signaled to an orderly to clean up the mess. He looked at John as if the man was some sort of science project (which he probably was) and stated didactically, "We filled you with bio-nanites whose program was to seek out and repair your failing organs after we had killed the virus responsible for your illness. You have to purge the nanites now that their job is done. Can't have you keeping those inside of you or you will become sicker than you were."

"Oh, of course. Makes perfect sense," stated John bitterly. Frelling Peacekeeper logic he thought. "Nobody tells me anything. How long am I going to play roto-rooter for your pets?"

"A few arns, at most. Although we are not certain with your alien physiology whether it will be longer or shorter or what other symptoms may occur before the purging process is complete. We have developed a blood replacement therapy which I was just coming over to set up as you called." With that, the medic motioned to several of his colleagues and together they hooked John up to a very painful apparatus whose purpose was to filter and replace his blood. John frowned and looked up to his tormentors. He felt completely helpless. They had raised the head of the bed so that he could vomit safely without choking, but that was the end of their concern for his comfort. Needles pierced both arms at the elbows. They had bound his arms down to the bed by his wrists to ensure he did not jerk away. They had also tied down his legs and he found that one of the tubes snaked from his femoral artery out to the arcane transfusion device. "Don't move and this will be over before you know it," someone told him as they turned on the device. "I'm sorry that we cannot dull the pain of this procedure nor put you to sleep."

The feeling of nausea, the purging, the metallic taste of blood in his mouth and weird crawly feeling of the nanites as they flowed out with the waste and the constant pumping and flowing of fluids in and out of his aching extremities must be what the tortures of the nether regions of Hell Dante wrote about must have felt like to his travelers. And all through the night of torment not one of his crewmates came to visit. He felt alone with his thoughts of rape, drugged lust, and Aeryn floating and morphing into Grayza. At times he even saw ghost-like in the darkness visions of these two dark-haired women. Their faces floated close to his own and sought to suck his soul out of his mouth with their cold breath. He thought he screamed a few times but still not even the Medics on duty came near. By the time the lights were raised to indicate ship's day he was prostrate with exhaustion and the vestiges of the terror of the night. He felt empty, lost, and wished with all his soul for the oblivion of the lakah bulb.

John lay there bitching to himself and rolling his head periodically trying to control his panic at the violence of his nausea as well as the darkness of his thoughts. Everyone betrayed him in the end and he basically deserved it. What had he brought his friends but bounty hunters, the loss of their homes and futures, and worst of all death and destruction. His obsessions lead to a trip to his bollixed-up, xenophobic, parochial, angry home world. That arrival, in turn, lead to the death of his best friend and new wife as well as the total obliteration of his dad's house. He figured that his behavior also drove Chiana and D'Argo from his side, just as he willfully banished Aeryn. Gawd he was lonely. It had been months since he felt whole. He missed Elack and his pilot almost as much as he missed Moya and Pilot. They offered love unconditionally. And look at what these creatures got in return, more death and violence. He felt like death. He wished Aeryn hadn't brought him to Mata Hari's lair but let him just fade away. Everyone would be better off. He closed his eyes and tried to calm down but another intense wave of dren filled his mouth. He leaned over to the container and released his hold. Falling back on to the bed, he shuddered.

D'Argo and Chiana sat in the Officer's Mess trying to ignore all of the sullen looks at their presence. They had eaten the surprisingly good evening meal and were nursing hot beverages and trying to figure out how they were going to get off the ship successfully after Crichton achieved a clean bill of health. Chiana looked up and smiled at Aeryn as she strode towards them across the room. Aeryn's back was straight and she looked directly in front of herself as she passed through the dark looks thrown her way. She pulled a chair out next to Chiana and sat herself down. Then, waving to a server, she ordered the evening meal and a hot beverage. She spoke not a word to either friend.

"Aeryn, how is Crichton doing?" Chiana burst forth. Chiana then placed her hand on the ex-Peacekeeper's arm and cocked her silver-haired head towards her friend. "Any word on his condition. You've been gone a long time."

Aeryn still did not speak but took her eating utensil and dove into her repast as if it was a beast that she had to tame.

"Aer, what's wrong? Is it Crichton?" Chiana continued to push.

"Chiana, can't you see that Aeryn doesn't want to talk. Give it a rest," D'Argo said gently. D'Argo was growing alarmed at Aeryn's behavior. It had been at least 13 arns since they had left Crichton in the Medical Center and sought out their quarters. Where and what had Aeryn been doing during the last seven or eight arns since they had seen her last? He had a feeling that it was not John's health that had her in this state of passive-aggression, but rather his attitude. Something definitely had happened.

"Dren, D'Argo, Aeryn needs to tell us. John is our friend too!" Chiana responded. "Aeryn, I can't imagine how John will feel when he wakes up and finds himself on Grayza's carrier. Has he woken up? Wha-what happened?"

"Yes, he was awake when I left." Aeryn continued to shovel food in her mouth as if she could destroy it with her teeth. She did not look at the either the Nebari or Luxan.

"Dren! Aeryn you cannot leave him alone. He has been left alone too much already. Tell me you didn't tell him what was traded for his health."

"He knows, Chiana."

Chiana banged her cup on to the table. And screeched at Aeryn. Heads turned in her direction, but she didn't care. "Aeryn, you have no idea of the betrayal John has suffered. And he is alone to feel this one as well. The old man may have just reached his limit."

"Chiana, stay out of it. This is not your business. John told me to leave. He doesn't want me."

"Bull-dren! John probably heard the name Grayza and panicked."

"What do you mean, Chiana? Spill it. What does Grayza have on John? Why did I see such depression and panic in John? What happened on Arnessk? Aeryn had just about had enough of the cryptic comments around what went on while she was away. She no slammed her cup on the table. "You will tell me what caused John to shun me for all these months after I have done everything he said I should do. I have gotten my story straight. Now you get yours straight. Tell me about Arnessk."

D'Argo laid a cautionary hand on Chiana's arm. "I'll tell her, Chiana. It is my duty as I also betrayed John. My honor is broken as much as her's is." D'Argo cleared his throat but before he could start, Chiana broke in. "Aeryn, when we found John on that dying leviathan he was half out of his mind with pining for you. Between the wormholes and you he was almost more incoherent than usual. All he would ask is if we had seen you. He was talking to Harvey right and left and drinking heavily. He wasn't sleeping well and then there was Sikozu. I don't know whether he would have survived even partially sane if we hadn't arrived. He had been alone, marooned for at least a quarter cycle."

D'Argo continued where Chiana left off. "And then they arrived on Arnessk where we had agreed to meet. John was very very quiet and subdued when I told him nobody had heard from you. All he wanted to know was about you and the wormhole that had swallowed up Moya, Pilot, Jool, and that crazy old woman. But, as usual, dren happened because Jool's Instructor brought the Peacekeepers down on our trail. The next thing we know, Chiana, the old woman, and Jool were captured and John, John was presented with Scorpius on a chain treated like an animal. Guess who held the chain? Grayza. I was away with Sikozu, but Chiana saw what happened. Sikozu and I guess later." D'Argo took a drink of his now cold beverage to collect his thoughts and raging emotions. He had to stay calm, but the rage with himself was building. He was so guilty of mistreating his friend. He lowered his head and Chiana took over the conversation. Aeryn continued to say nothing, but she was was watching them intently.

"Um, from my position in front of the old man when Grayza approached his position, he looked like he took a snort of something. His eyes rolled back in his head and then he grabbed her and kissed her. I figured at the time that he was nallywhiped, but it turns out that Grayza does something very different. I found out later that she has the Delos Concubine's Heppel Gland implanted. The witch uses heppel to force frelling and telling. And she had John." Chiana shuddered and looked down at the table. Aeryn's eyes grew very wide.

"You mean that Grayza raped him!" Aeryn cried. Her attention was totally on her friends. I have heard of disruptors who cannot succeed by their own wiles have this gland implanted. She will die horribly."

"There is more, Aeryn. More that I am terribly ashamed at," D'Argo spoke the words softly. We needed a diversion. So when Noranti, the old woman, forced John to jump off a cliff into the ocean in a suicide that failed, I then forced John to go back to Grayza. His job was to submit to her hepple-filled sex torture while Sikozu freed the girls. I sent him back to be raped again. I am not proud of my actions. They were necessary, but it added to the layers of betrayal John felt from those who perported to love him."

"And then I bring Scorpius to the one place that John feels safe. And I wouldn't tell him about the baby or my time away from Moya." Aeryn mumbled to herself. Oh this was frelled."

"And I played a virtual reality game with John based on the memories of the John who went with you. Stark sold the memories to a games developer named Yoti. It was a twisted game that had layers where Scorpius used something called a neural net to force Pilot and you to do his bidding. John struggled through this game never knowing what was real and what was not to be trusted until by the end of the play he trusted nobody. And you weren't his princess." Chiana spoke rapidly of the past and how it again messed with her friend's mind.

"And it all comes down to trust. John simply doesn't trust anybody any more. We saw it on Earth and here we are again betraying his feeling of safety for what we thought was a righteous purpose, but he gets mangled in the process." Aeryn whispered this and shook her head. She had to make it up to him some way. But first she had to brave his anger and feelings of abandonment. Because that is what they all had done. Abandoned their friend. Aeryn looked at the wall chronometer and realized that they had spent arns talking. Frell! John was alone again in the Medical Center. Aeryn tapped her comms badge. D'Argo and Chiana pushed their chairs away from the table. All three crewmates rushed out of the Mess Center and down the corridors that lead to the Medical Area. According to the Medical Technician, John had just tried to pull the needles out of his arms.

John tore at the bindings that held his arms down on the bed. He managed by dint of extreme pressure to loosen his right wrist and pull his fist out. He rapidly ripped the large bore needle out of his left arm causing a cascade of blood to pour out on to the bedding. He gasped and cried as he struggled to release his other wrist. Just as he succeeded and was working on the needle connected to his femoral artery, several large medics jumped on to the bed. John screamed in rage and struggled fiercely to push them off, to little avail. Just as Aeryn, D'Argo, and Chiana barged into the area, the Lead Medic shot John in the neck causing him to collapse bonelessly on the bed. Blood covered every dench of the bedding and pooled on the floor.

Aeryn lifted John's head gently from the pillow and climbed in behind him. She slipped her arms around his neck and chest so that his head nestled in her lap. "Oh John, I can't believe we left you alone with your frelled up thoughts. This was our fault. I hope you forgive me." She stayed with him all though the arduous process of stripping the bloody coverings and clothing off the bed and the man and restoring order. D'Argo and Chiana also never left his side. It was a long night and entire day before they felt John stir.

Chapter 9

John Crichton wanted to die. All of his friends had abandoned him. He hurt deep in his soul, never mind the physical shear level of pain and exhaustion he was going through. He had welcomed the rush of blood that ran from the wounds he had created when he ripped out the IV lines. Why had they stopped him? Wasn't he the number one bad guy in the universe? Hadn't he caused enough grief and misery for everyone he touched by his mere presence? Why wouldn't they just let him find peace? He tried to shake his head and managed to let out a groan. Nope, his luck was running true to form. He was definitely in the land of the living.

He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a few times to clear them of the haze. He tried to raise his hand to wipe them of the goo and discovered that his wrists were strapped to the bed. "Wha… what the hell!" he muttered.

"Articulate as always, Crichton," came the soft lilting voice from his left.

"The human is always confusing, Chiana. Give him a microt and maybe he'll make as much sense as he usually does, which isn't much." Came another voice from the left that sounded lower and gruffer.

"Shhhh, you too. Let him get his bearings. He's had a difficult fight." That was a voice he longed for with all his might.

"Ah.. ah, what happened?" John tried again. His mouth tasted like last week's bed sheets and his throat ached. Suddenly he felt rather than saw a straw-like device looming in front of his face. He took a sip and then sucked the container dry. "Oh man that tastes good."

"John, we are so sorry we left you alone. I don't don't know what D'Argo and I thought. Ma…maybe this place has us spooked, but we just have no excuse for not being with you. Will you forgive us?" Chiana reached out and placed her cool fingers on his hot arm. "Will ya?"

"Sure Pip, it's cool," John stated while his heart was racing. They just screwed up as always. He wasn't alone. Somehow they forgave him his frelled up arrogance and they were here. On. A. carrier. Gawd, he had forgotten! Grayza's carrier. Of all the messed up ideas. "Who's plan was this?"

"Mine, John. Blame it on me," she spoke softly. "Grayza has offered us a truce and her medical staff in return for your workbooks and you," she whispered. Oh this was going to hurt. She cringed internally but sought to show none of her roiling emotions on her face as she looked down at John's wan face. The pustules and their scars were fading but he still had a long way to go until full health. She had to make use of that time before Grayza called in her side of the deal. "John, hate me, but it was the only way to find a cure."

"Aeryn, I can't hate you, baby. I just have issues with the plan," he couldn't tell her, wouldn't tell her that he felt a deep pit of dread at the thought of facing the she-witch again with her magic mojo paste. He was a befouled man and had no right to the loyalty of his friends. And then again, she had done it again, betrayed him to his enemy without knowing it. "Just, Aeryn, remember I what I said in the Air Exchange Chamber? It still stands." He looked away closing his eyes to hide their sadness and the external display of his emotional wreckage.

"D'Argo, Chiana, would you be so kind as to give John and I a time by ourselves?" Aeryn spoke calmly while her heart sank. This was going to be very difficult.

"Sure thing, Aeryn. We'll be in our quarters. John, old man, be easy on her, okay. You don't know all the facts. And believe me, she does." Chiana said as she pushed D'Argo through the door.

When the two aliens had left the room John turned his face back to Aeryn. "Babe, would be so kind as to release me from this rig. I won't hurt myself again, promise. And what did Chiana mean, you know everything?"

Aeryn busied herself by releasing the straps that held his wrists down. It gave her hands something to do while she gathered her wits. She sat back and watched as he rubbed his wrists to bring back their circulation. The blackening was also fading. He looked exhausted and this talk was truly inappropriate. But since when had they had good timing?

"Aeryn, what did she mean?"

Aeryn suddenly realized (frell where were her instincts?) that the walls literally had ears and eyes. "Wait a microt, John. I think you would really be better off with some medicinal steam." She motioned to a servor who soon brought the medical technican to her side. "Does this Carrier have a Recovery Room?"

"Yes, it does. Why?" the tech asked.

"Because John Crichton is recovering," she said with asperity. "I strongly suggest that he take some time in the healing steam. The Commandant I'm sure wants him to heal more quickly than he can on his own. Remember he is not Sebecean and I have noticed that humans do not heal as rapidly."

The medical staff had conferred and agreed with Aeryn's suggestion (thankfully). John and Aeryn settled on the steps amidst the healing and wonderfully muffling steam. Here they could talk without being overheard. John seemed to sense her goal and acquiesced silently to being hustled out of the medical unit and into the steam area. His only complaints were how intense his pain levels rose from the jostling, but that soon subsided and he actually sighed in relief. Now the dren happens, he thought.

Aeryn cleared her throat, which was extremely uncharacteristic and started. "John, I know about Arnessk and I am so so sorry. I understand now why you have been such a, how do you say it in English, oh yes, arrogant ass. I don't know what to say to make you trust me again. I know I have not given you any behavior that would prove to you that I love you, but I do."

John looked down at his hands and then back up at Aeryn. He blinked to clear his eyes of the sudden wetness and just shook his head. All of this stuff was such a mess. Where should he start. Well, barrel on through, boy. "Aeryn, um remember at the start of this current round of let's pound on the poor Earth man, I uh told you that I would have asked you to stay. Well, I still mean that, but um I, ah… (now or never, John, just blurt… say it… hurt her til she leaves because you can't trust your heart right now. You should not be forgiving her. Look what she just did to you. Grayza, for Christ's sake!) how how can you live with me knowing that I am spoiled goods? (that wasn't what I meant, space boy. You can't trust her. She betrayed you over and over again. Be tough) Grayza couldn't take my heart, but she took everything else I had. Then there is Scorpy. Aeryn, Scorpy is here. This just sucks." (John-boy, you are a wuss. No, I'm not. I need her. I want her. From her perspective she is just trying to the best of her ability to balance her upbringing with her love. I'm just stuck in the middle. Shut the frell up). John felt whip lashed by his emotions. How Yosemite Sam is this he wondered. He had the angel and the devil on his shoulders and who would win was anybody's guess. He turned to listen and held his breath at her response.

John Crichton, farbot spaceman and lover of this ex-Peacekeeper, Aeryn thought and reached out to take his hand in hers. He did not pull it away, which was a good sign. She sighed. "John, I know you are confused and feel betrayed by all of the people you have met since you arrived here. I don't want to hurt you. By Cholok's ghost, I love you. And that is all the excuse I can give for bringing on to this Carrier and exposing you to Grayza again. We will get through this together. We always have. Can you trust me?"

Could he trust her? That was the crux of the matter. Oh he so wanted to. His battered soul needed to. He needed to trust and hope again. Hadn't Olivia given him Mom's ring. She must have seen something he couldn't about their relationship. He figuratively blew away the devil on his shoulder and watched as the angel smiled. Man was he psychotic or what? Insane since birth. "Aeryn, I love you, my crazy ex-Peacekeeper with the huge heart and loyalty as deep as the UTs." John leaned over and lay his head on her shoulder. "Oh I so missed you."

Aeryn smiled that glorious smile that always made his heart flip and ran her hand through his hair. "You are positively insane. But I love you too."

As they sat in the steamy warmth they didn't see the arrival of a contingent of Peacekeeper security nor did they notice the arrival of Mel-on Grayza. She smiled like a cat and signaled to her men that they should approach the pair and leave no opening for escape.

Chapter 10

John looked at Aeryn quizzically, his left eyebrow lifting in a silent question. She knew he was confused by Grayza's aggression whereas she expected it. Aeryn sighed and turned towards the Commandant where she stood with her hands on her hips.

Aeryn reached out to John to steady him as he tried to stand but had only managed to swing his legs over off the ledge before he wobbled precariously. She knew somehow that he so wanted to face this woman on his feet.

"John Crichton and Officer Aeryn Sun," Mel-on Grayza spoke quietly but distinctly, "It is time to pay the price of our largess. I have the notebooks but no one in my science labs can translate their contents. John Crichton, you must provide that translation as payment for our medical support. That was the agreement."

John looked at the black-widow officer with her bared chest and strangely translucent skin with repugnance. He frowned and spat out, "I never agreed to this deal, Lucy and I won't be a patsy to your football game. Ain't gonna play." He crossed his arms.

"I thought you were an honorable man, John Crichton, but I see that I was wrong," Grayza said and motioned to two of the soldiers who waited nearby. "I have adopted a Nebari collar for this very contingency. You will wear the collar and if you work then you will be safe from its influence. If you don't work, you will be punished. In addition, as collateral for your good behavior, Aeryn Sun will be re-instated into the ranks. Her regiment has been rehabilitated and awaits her presence. She will be safe as long as you perform as per Aeryn Sun's agreement."

John tried to leap away from the now lunging officers, but was too debilitated to resist their hands. Aeryn was no help because as Grayza was speaking her sentence two other soldiers had grabbed and were now restraining her. She struggled but was no match. The mist drifted around the tableau and the ledges glistened with the moisture. Johns angry cries were lost in its muffling affect as the soldiers snapped the collar around his neck. The jewel-like protuberances glimmered in the murk as their circuitry engaged. It was a thin gold band much more elegant than the Nebari collar Varla had deployed so many cycles before. Its use was a mystery until Grayza ran her finger over a light on a bracelet. John felt the affects immediately as electricity charged down his arms and squeezed his chest until he felt he was suffocating. He fell to his knees and would have fallen over if he was not held tightly in the grip of his captors. He looked up at Grayza with hatred and fear as he shook the sweat out of his eyes.

Aeryn struggled to release the hold of the hands that held her arms tightly to her sides and finally managed to force their release. She ran to John's side and crouched down to check him over for injuries. "I'm fine, Aeryn. The bitch was only testing the works, right Grayza. You like your toys, right?" John gritted out.

Aeryn stood next to where John still sat on his knees struggling to recover from the collar's attack. She had no idea how to combat this situation. She was expecting it, but not so soon after John's recovery. She had so little time to prepare him for this shock. Nor had she had time to alert Chiana and D'Argo to the full import of her agreement with the Peacekeepers. Now she had to figure out a Plan B, as there was no Plan A. Dren! Time slipped away just as she had regained John's trust. What was he thinking? She had no time to reflect as the soldiers again approached her, this time with arms drawn and pointed her way.

"You will come peacefully, Officer Sun. You will make no sudden moves. You are very lucky. The Pleizar Company is engaged in reconnaissance duty and you will be out of touch for the next monen. Do not think of going AWOL or John Crichton will pay the price of your desertion. You both WILL serve the Sebecean cause to the best of your ability. And if you think that the two aliens who accompanied you will come to your aid, think again. They have been detained and are just now being deported from the Carrier. We will shoot them down if they attempt a rescue. There is no escape." Grayza motioned to the pair of soldiers who had Aeryn cornered.

John watched as Aeryn was marched out of the room. The door slid soundlessly with a soft whoosh. He looked at the floor trying desperately to still his rapidly beating heart and trembling hands. The electricity still coursed through his body adding to the continued debilitation of the virus that was only now leaving him. He knew he was no match for the witch's goons. He looked up sadly and grimly said, "You win. You hold all the cards, Grayza. I will do your translations although it will do you no good. I have never finished the equations. I never had the time; what with strange Christmas critters attacking my family and destroying all that I hold dear. That was your doing, I assume. Killing my friends and trashing my dad's house is NOT the way to win friends and influence people. I'll cooperate, Darth Vaderess. But you had better ensure that Aeryn Sun is treated with respect."

"You are in no place to make demands, John."

"It is Crichton to you, Ms. Sith. You do not get to call me by my first name. What is it with you guys and first names?"

The collar suddenly zapped him with what felt like that 100-gigahertz charge Marty McFly's delorean received as it sped from 80 miles per hour to infinity. He trembled and cried out with its impact on his body and slumped over unconscious. A soldier slapped his face until he recovered his senses. He opened his eyes and gazed blearily upward.

"That was a warning. You will not be disrespectful or insubordinate." Grayza leaned over his slumped form and ran a fingernail along his sweaty arm. "We begin tomorrow after you have rested and recovered." She turned away from where John knelt; now released from the hold of the officers.

And he was suddenly alone in the mist and his thoughts were as murky and smokey as the room. He leaned over and covered his face with hands and rocked back and forth.

Chapter 11

The marauder housed five soldiers, each of whom were capable of both piloting the ship as well as fighting. They slept in a small compartment on the Hammond side on hard metal bunks stacked one on top of another. There were no pillows and coverings consisted of thermal sheeting that also served as rain-proofing on planet runs. Comfort was an alien concept to Peacekeepers. The ship's temperature was maintained at minus 1 optimum so as to keep everyone alert. Food stores were plentiful but boring and consisted of food cubes and water. Once every five-day a ration of felip nectar was delivered and three of the four commandos enjoyed their brief relaxation and recreation period together. The fourth commando sat on one of the lower bunks with her back towards the group. She ran her hands through her tightly braided dark hair and tried to relax. It had been a weeken since she had been shanghaied on to the marauder. She had tried to make the best of an awful situation but worries about John kept intruding. She had no idea whether he had been given a chance to fully recover his strength but intuition told her that he was suffering both from the vestiges of the virus as well as from that frelling collar. She had it easy.

Aeryn looked down from her perch on to the rolling and thumping bodies of her crewmates. They had actually treated her fairly considering that she had been away from the regiment for over three cycles. It was ironic that here she was on a marauder doing exactly what she always wanted to do, yet her thoughts were parsecs away and centered on a stubborn, arrogant, compassionate, lonely alien male. She closed her eyes trying to block out the moans and sighs of enjoyment wafting her way off the floor. This was her place and yet she felt apart from these people. She had acquitted herself well during a recent engagement on a nameless planet. She had pulled one of her crewmates out of the line of fire and was rewarded with the first warming grin and slap on the back for her trouble. She sipped slowly on her felip nectar to make it last.

In a way, Grayza was being kind in reinstating her into her old unit. Aeryn figured that Grayza thought she would be killed by friendly fire or treated so roughly that John would put extra effort into his work to ensure her safety. But, as was usual with Peacekeeper executives, they never really understood the comradary of troops under fire. Although the squad leader, Telso, continued to harbor distrust towards Aeryn, her fellow grunts figured that every soldier deserved another chance. The amazing part of her rehabilitation was that there seemed to be no hard feelings regarding the demotion of the Pliezar Regiment Icarian Company and every bit of welcome for their good fortune at being reinstated. This reconnaissance mission seemed to be a trial run or test of their loyalty. She could do no more than to fall in line so as to not squelch their hope. Yet she didn't have to enjoy it nor did she have to forget why she was on the marauder or who was suffering for her good behavior.

"Officer Sun," Telso called out. "You are not celebrating with the others?"

"No sir. I am not in the mood," Aeryn replied neutrally.

"I can understand," he said as he laid his hand on her bunk. "I truly can. Out here we cannot keep secrets from each other. I read much about your service record and subsequent punishment by Captain Crais and I am frankly surprised at your exemplary behavior. Crais was a hard but fair task master and I always thought he had a reason for deeming you irreversibly contaminated."

Aeryn said nothing as she watched Telso's hand creep up her leg heading towards her thigh.

"It seems that we underestimated your sense of duty. You did good work today."

"Thank you, sir. Now, if you don't mind, I'm very tired." Aeryn said quietly as she gently removed his hand from her upper thigh.

"Aeryn Sun, everyone needs to lower fluids after a firefight. I mean nothing personal. As I stated a microt ago, I have read your dossier and I know why you are considered contaminated and I don't mind."

"Officer Telso," Aeryn spoke clearly, "I cannot in good faith recreate with you because strange as it may sound, he is my mate."

Telso nodded and walked away to join the party on the floor. Aeryn looked down at him and shook her head.

"We will not speak of this again, agreed?" he called out to her over his shoulder and grinned.

Aeryn sighed again. These were good people and loyal to a fault. She could find a place here among them if only…

Chapter 12

He sat stock still as she ran her thumbs around his face. He had no ammunition in his arsenal of stubbornness against whatever she was doing. All he knew is that whenever she touched him he was filled with a disgusting lust for her that he had no control over. He blurted the facts from the notebooks as he sought to grab her lips in his own. She wouldn't give him what he desperately wanted until he had divulged all of his translating efforts. He hated himself afterwards for the betrayal of his morality and his love. Yet, he couldn't figure out exactly how she did it. She must be using some sort of slop on him. That had to be the ticket. He had no memory of what he had told her. He had only the dirty feeling of bad sex and the scratches and bruises of his encounters. That damn collar kept him docile and her fingers kept him spilling the beans. Jesus Christ! He was between a rock and a hard place, literally and figuratively. She had taken to zapping him during their violent thrusting encounters, withholding herself until he screamed out wormhole facts and then letting him complete only after giving him a neck-full of pain. Pain and pleasure were his life at the moment. He felt frayed at the edges.

Another day in hell. The room was chilly, so much so that he could see his breath as he panted from the last zap of the invisible fence. He shivered and wondered if Sebeceans ever got chill banes. Probably not, they were too frigid to notice. He swiveled around in his astro-boy chair, spinning and spinning. Kind of reminded him of Stark. In fact this whole get up reminded him of the crazy sane Banik. He wondered if Stark had ever found Zhaan. He'd found his Zhaan, but she was lost in the stars. He felt another surge of electricity from the collar and he shivered and shuddered.

It was ironic that his sessions with the black beast had opened up wormhole theory so widely that he was finally breaking down the obstacles to the equations. He could find his way home now. That was another problem to ponder. Just where was home? Dad, Olivia, Suse, Frank, and Bobby were home, but then so was Moya, Pilot, D'Argo, Chiana, and even Ryge. Home in his heart was Aeryn. God, what was she doing out there? Was she safe? Were they degrading her too much? She could bear it. She was his tough, take-no-prisoners gal. But he worried all the same. He blinked. Had the lights changed? He had no watch or way to tell that time was passing except for his hunger pangs or thirst. They came for him at intervals and let him go to the bathroom, eat, shower, sleep, and then back to the grindstone. Yet, he felt that he was missing intervals of his life. It was weird. He shivered with the cold and hunkered down. He wished they would give him back his jacket.

Mel-on Grayza studied the hologram closely as she ran a manicured finger over her bracelet, periodically selecting a button to jolt her prisoner into working harder on translating the confounding notebooks. She was pleased with the situation. Here she had a way of controlling him and the sex was an added befuddlement. Keeps him unbalanced between the Heppel and the collar. She looked over to where the med tech stood holding a new vial of his blood. Crichton was providing such a bounty of support for her pet project of mediation with the Scarrens. It seemed that the virus he brought from his home world was very potent. It would even infect alien species, such as Nebari, Luxan, and Sebecean. They couldn't milk Crichton too often or he would weaken further and would be of no use in his scientific pursuits. They could harness the virus as a fail safe if the offer of Luxa space fell through. She nodded to the tech to proceed with his report on this latest blood test. Synthesizing the virus was proving to be difficult, but obtainable. The human's DNA was remarkably similar to Sebecean's, which was a fascinating side thought. She put it out of her head. Grayza was a strategist and not interested in pure research. Wherever and whateverCrichton's home world was, it was an offshoot and not important to the greater good. They would have to put him under again and continue their study of his heat-controlling physiology. She turned back to her screen, dismissing the med tech from her mind.

D'Argo grumbled as he adjusted the readouts on his console. Chiana merely sat staring straight ahead. It had been a weeken since they were hustled back on to Lo'la and thrust out of the Carrier and they were no closer to figuring out a way to rescue their friends. D'Argo had used the cloaking capabilities of Lo'la to shadow the carrier's flight. They were running low on food and water and would have to bail out to a commerce planet in the near future. Chiana swayed no in her co-pilot's seat and looked up at her erst-while lover. "Do ya think they are okay, D'Argo?"

D'Argo just humphed. She had been asking the same question for the past several arns and he was getting tired of her voicing the doubts that he harbored. "Chiana, you have asked me the same question a thousand times already. What do you think? Grayza sent that monster to Earth to capture Crichton. She is capable of anything. We have got to get back on board that carrier. Think. You are the lady with the plan. I have enough dren simply keeping Lo'la hidden and flying."

He grumbled but she knew he was worried about John and Aeryn's chances of survival. It was his way. "We know marauders are coming and going. We saw one fly out a weeken ago when they kicked us off. Can't we tail one back on to the carrier? Like a shadow.?"

D'Argo's eyes brightened with the concept. He smiled and leaned over and gave Chiana a kiss on the forehead. Of course, why hadn't he thought of that! Lo'La was capable of flying in close and hidden. They would be a shadow and slip unseen on to a hanger. They would have to ration their food and water, but both had been in deprivation and could handle the hunger and thirst. He wondered idlely where Moya was hiding and whether they would be able to catch up with her once this little adventure was over. Aeryn had made arrangements with Pilot to rendezvous at a small moon and had given him the coordinates before setting out on her farbot plan. She had figured that everything would go south. She was an excellent tactician, that one. He felt himself grow angry at the thought that she was correct and all had blown to hezmana. D'Argo glanced at Chiana once again. "Chiana, you are brilliant. I don't say that enough. That is exactly what we will do. Play hide and seek with a marauder."

The little invisible ship continued to tail the carrier as it traveled further into Peacekeeper space. Another week passed before they got their chance. Chiana noticed the blip on the screen and woke D'Argo from his uncomfortable sleep. They had been taking turns sleeping and flying. Her gloves were a sodden mess from his spit, but the chance to give him some respite was worth the grossness. "D'Argo, wake up!" she pounded on his chest and pulled a tanka. "Look! One of the marauders is returning. Get your fradish self in gear. We have to follow and I don't know how to fly Lo'La under their scopes the way you do. Wake up!"

D'Argo woke with a start and shook himself clear of the blurry dreams of home and prowsa fruit mash. He would get that farm some day, but not today. Today they were going to enter a carrier and somehow manage to free both John and Aeryn. If their luck would hold. Fat chance of that. He nodded his thanks to Chiana and grabbed hold of the steering column and spoke the order to the ship to throttle down the engines. They would coast in under the marauder's shadow, thus avoiding the ever-present security beacons.

Lo'La touched gently down on the hanger deck and he coasted her into a corner of the huge echoing area. D'Argo and Chiana sat watching from their perch in Lo'La for a safe moment when they could leave the little ship. Flight techs were swarming all over the maurader as its crew complement of five hardened commandos slowly exited. One of the commandos sported a dark rigid braid and tired sad expression. She carried the same weapons as the other tired commandos. One of the quartet slapped her on the shoulder companionably and she smiled a bitter smile at him and continued walking away from the battle ship. D'Argo looked twice at her, but shook his head in denial. There was no way that Aeryn had rejoined the Peacekeepers and abandoned John. He had urged John to abandon her, but he knew in his hearts that she would never betray John. Or would she? Chiana just sat there and watched with her mouth open. They had to move quickly. Things were as frelled up as usual.

Chapter 13

John Crichton, human punching bag felt like he was hanging on by a thread. A tenuous connection to reality called Aeryn Sun. He knew he had to hold on, but it was getting more and more difficult. She kept zapping him and each jolt felt like another piece of himself melted away in the shuddering aftermath. Another thing troubled him, he was missing more and more chunks of time and wondering why he felt so filthy emotionally. The room was so cold. Gray walls, gray floor, and everything bolted down except his chair. He spun and spun both physically and mentally. Something told him that those missing chunks were crucial to his sanity, but the buzzing electric pain of the collar mixing with the sweet, sticky effluvia that lingered whenever Grayza made her presence known drowned out his questions. The strange thing was she never asked him anything. He wasn't working, he was just clinging to the idea that D'Argo, Chiana, and Aeryn were safe. Was Aeryn safe? Had a monen already passed? He shook his head and continued his spinning in the chair he had adopted as his safety net.

Grazya gazed at the hologram of her captive scientist and smiled at his continued confusion. It kept him safely contained while she was able to mine his amazingly supple brain for the information she needed. And his blood and body were an extra special tool for her plans. She passed her fingers over the lighted jewels on her wrist and nodded when Crichton shuddered and fell off the chair.

Her attention to Crichton's reactions was broken by the call of one of the medical technicians. She frowned and held out her hand for the data chip on the latest results for the virus project. "Report," she abruptly ordered.

"We have succeeded in isolating the virus from the human's blood and have synthesized the plague. What we will need is a continual source of his blood elements to manufacture enough to make it a weapon." The medical tech swallowed and waited for his commander's reaction to the good news.

Grayza smiled and actually praised the tech who nodded and left. Grayza turned back to her hologram of Crichton who had now laid his head down on the back of the chair with his eyes closed. She pushed another gem and watched as he slipped off the chair on to the cold floor. His time of sanity was over.

John opened his eyes and groaned. "Another piece of my life gone missing," he thought as he tried to figure out his current situation. He was obviously lying down as his head felt something beneath it, something hard. He sought out other clues, reaching down to his toes but came up absolutely empty. It was as if they had cut him off at the neck. Had they cut him off? He panicked at the thought and tried to scream, "What the?" but found his mouth so dry and cottony with whatever drug they had used to knock him out, all that he could actually say sounded muffled. He swallowed and tried again to catch the attention of one of the tech who were swarming around the bed. "What the frell did you do to me?" But no one answered. It was as if he no longer existed. He struggled with the wild-ass science fiction element of his situation and gave up when the only thing that came to mind was Woody Allen's Sleeper routine "We are going to clone a nose." He giggled helplessly. Oh he hoped he was more than a nose on a table. But that was what it sure felt like. He knew this was bad. Very very bad. He swallowed again and shouted, "Would somebody tell me what's going on?"

The black haired witch whose pale visage he had grown to hate with a depth of emotion that would have shocked him by its depth if he wasn't beyond that sort of pain leaned over his bed and quietly ran her fingers over his cheek and lips, saying "John Crichton, you have been the savior of the Sebecean race. We are grateful for the information you have given us. You are now privileged to be the test bed of a new weapon, such is your unique richness."

"Wha, what are you say'n there Empatha? I gave you nothin'," John responded and tried to shake his head but again was frustrated by the depth of his physical numbness. He could see the drifting gases rising from the metal table but felt none of the affects of what was obviously something extremely cold. "Oh God, what is going on here?" He struggled to even move a finger, failing miserably. He closed his eyes to hide his absolute loss. She kept speaking in spite of his obviousness.

"Oh, but you did, John. And I will call you John because we will be together for cycles to come. Now that you have delivered the wormhole technology, you will be cryogenically preserved so that we may harvest the virus in your system. You will be awake and aware, but totally immobile; my gift to you for your betrayal. Oh, and Aeryn Sun has been reinstated and accepted into her old unit. They will be the vessel of delivery of the plague first to Luxa as a present to the Scarrans to show our seriousness of purpose in this détente I have be working so hard to negotiate. Thank you John Crichton."

John opened his mouth and screamed and screamed as the isolation shield was lowered over him, entombing him seemingly forever.

Chapter 14

John could feel himself slipping away piece by piece. They had filled him with some sort of dren that shut down his ability to speak or even move his lips. His eyes were closed against the glare and he couldn't even blink or feel his brows. Luckily (or truly not) his sense of smell and hearing were not impaired but that just meant that he freaked silently in his tomb as he heard the snick and hiss of something on his right and left as he smelt the acrid fumes of what his brain said was formaldehyde but that made no sense. He was definitely in hell and he knew they could keep him there forever. Slowly he slipped into a dream-like fugue where he could live away from the stench and sounds of what they were currently doing to his body.

He dug down deep into his memories and found a place where he had been happy. He built this place piece by piece. First the white clapboard cabin with its sloping roof and sagging New England surrounding porch. The paint was cracked around the large windows and he could see the frayed curtains and slightly smudged glass where he and his sisters used to play tic-tack-toe by running their fingertips along the dust that seemed to collect over night in spite of repeated wiping with the Windex. He sat himself on the wooden swing that hung from its rusted chain and pushed away from the wall with its tattered maps and sketches of space ships that he had tacked there over the slow summer days. The swing flew over the wooden railings and he felt he could fly. He always loved pumping really high and strong and the whooshing creak of the chains and air against his bare legs and sandaled feet. He would reach out with his toes towards the lake and lean as far back as he could and yell at the top of his lungs. He would stay on that swing on that summer afternoon with the breezes blowing off the lake. John envisioned himself on that swing. He squeezed his eyes and opened them in his dream and felt the sun on his face. He smiled although he knew intellectually that he was still lying on that god awful monstrosity of a table, he was home.

He continued with his world building by remembering barbeques and cookouts, fish from the lake, lemonade, ice cream, and somemores whose gooey chocolate and toasted marshmellow would sometimes drip on to his t-shirt causing his mom to scowl. He remembered his family. His mom would be calling them in for lunch soon. He could smell the aroma of the burgers and hot dogs his father was grilling in the front yard; hear the giggling of his sisters as they wandered up from the jetty. He built the lawn in front of the cabin with its scattering of mushrooms and dandelions amidst the pines and willows. He stretched his memories further and constructed the way the sun played on the deep green waters of the lake there in Maine and the way that the old wooden walkway down to the rowboats would creak and bend if you jumped from one edge to the next. He liked to pound on them really hard and watch the boards vibrate — especially if Olivia or Susan were sitting on the edge of the pier. They would scream so loudly at him. He would laugh because he knew they couldn't catch him as he ran through their arms and dived into the chilled waters.

The medical techs noted in their charts that Crichton's brain waves were flat-lining as were his vital signs. They hustled to adjust the mixture of liquid nitrogen they were using to maintain his body in its frozen state. The lead tech ran his fingers over the bejeweled bracelet he wore, turning on the electrical charge that jolted the patient's body, once then twice. The heart rate sped up, his breathing became more steady, but the brain wave patterns remained at their previously low levels. They would have to inform the Commandant that their patient was slowly dying from possibly the absolute cold of his prison or his isolation. She would not be happy.

D'Argo and Chiana quietly followed the marauder's commandos, including Aeryn, into the main passageways of the Carrier. She was trailing her compatriots and it would have been easy to corner her, but D'Argo wanted to find out where she was heading and where her loyalties lay. He motioned to Chiana and they ducked into what seemed to be a storage compartment. D'Argo whispered in her ear, and Chiana nodded once as he pointed to what was obviously a ventilation duct. Chiana was disgusted at the thought of all that crawling and what it would do to the knees of her pants, but knew that they had to know Aeryn's intentions and whether they could trust her. She agreed with D'Argo's frown and knew she too was terrified and heartbroken at what seemed to be Aeryn's betrayal. And where was Crichton?

Chiana climbed into the narrow opening after D'Argo wrenched open the grate. The embroidery covering the side of her pants caught on the rough edge and she heard the snap of threads as D'Argo quickly freed her. She cursed silently and vowed that somebody was going to owe her a new outfit when this farbot rescue was over. The ducts ran parallel to the passageway, according to the plans that she had snurched with D'Argo's help while they had been waiting near Lo'La for the way to be clear. Chiana had enjoyed breaking into the Carrier's flimsy stash when they discovered it where it was stored in the maintenance bay adjoining the landing area. She still "had it" and she smiled as she shown her torch on the flimsy containing plans to the ventilation system. She could hear the commandos chatting as they strolled down the passage beneath her. They were talking about the normal things, a meal, a frell, and bed when she thought she heard Aeryn's voice excusing herself from her fellow officers' joking camaraderie.

Aeryn leaned against the cold steelskin wall and watched warily as her crewmates disappeared around the bend in the passageway. She sighed and relaxed shoulders and back muscles that she hadn't even realized were tense and knotted. What the dren was she doing? She looked at her gloved hands and made two fists as if to squeeze her worries into a ball that she could toss out with her divided loyalties. She loved the life on the marauder—its combination of rules and respect, its excitement of the chase and capture, the friendships with no strings on down times. And yet, and yet, she now felt its emptiness. Something was missing and she knew what it was, love. There was no room for love or even passion. There was no room for "more." She couldn't be more than a cog in the wheel of Peacekeeper politics. In her past life that membership in the club, her role as a soldier obeying orders blindly, had been enough. It was what she was bred for. But John, D'Argo, Zhaan, Chiana, and even Rygel had taught her differently. She sighed again. All the hand wringing was not going to solve the problem of getting John out of Grayza's hands. She looked down at her now open hands. Could she wash her guilt away by ignoring the fact that John was where he was because of her bargain? She did what she had to do to heal him, but the cost was too high. She looked up at the ceiling and tried to stem the cold shiver running up her spine. What if Grayza destroys John? And she knew that the witch would. She would use him up and throw him back at Aeryn.

Aeryn frowned in frustration at the frelled-up situation. Here she was back where she had longed to be, a newly restored commando of the re-instated Pliesar Regiment. But the straightjacket of this role was killing her slowly. She must pretend to follow orders or John would definitely be sacrificed. But she also knew that she had better figure out a plan because Grayza was going to kill him anyway. She had the feeling from talking to the Commandant that there was something personal about her interest in Crichton. She shuddered when the coldness blossomed in her face. Hezmana! Had Grayza used the Heppel gland on him while Aeryn was away? She had heard rumors that the Commandant had had the Delos Concubine gland implanted while a disruptor. She always discounted that because it was a weak thing to do. And Grayza's reputation for ruthlessness was definitely not weak. Had John been captured during her time way? Was this what D'Argo, Chiana, and that red-haired frelnik, Sikozou been alluding to during the past couple of times they spoke of Arnesk and John's increasingly cold behavior? Yes, Arnesk, that mystery they would only elide past in conversation. And had John, in his anarchic way defeated her some how? That had to be the answer, which made rescuing John imperative. Aeryn knew she must put aside her guilt and horror and think like the soldier she was bred to be. Tactics were her specialty. She had to use every bid of intel to get John free. They had just received orders to report to the Medical Center for some sort of inoculations. She was running out of time.

D'Argo received the tap on his Comms unit that indicated that Chiana was returning from her jaunt down the ducts. When her white hair appeared at the grate he ripped it off the wall and threw it aside. He grasped Chiana by her armpits and pulled her into the storage area. Even before she regained her balance, she whispered urgently to D'Argo about Aeryn's isolated position in the corridor. They made the quick decision to stop the skulking about and confront the former Peacekeeper about her loyalties. Between the two of them, hopefully they could subdue her and get some answers.

Aeryn was shook out of her reverie when she heard two sets of footfalls, a loud thumping of a heavy-set foe and a sliding lighter sound that was obviously made by a smaller opponent. She assumed that she was the target for whatever dren was approaching. But, her mouth momentarily dropped open in shock when D'Argo and Chiana rounded the corner. She quickly recovered and motioned to them to duck into an alcove close by. D'Argo frowned and unshipped his Qualta Blade as Chiana pulled the white-handled pistol from its holster. They had to be ready for an attack from Aeryn. Aeryn knew that her uniform and seemingly good relationship with troops would be viewed by her friends as a betrayal and she further knew how D'Argo felt about loss of honor. So she stood with her arms out by her sides and did nothing as he pushed her against a wall and pressed his Qualta blade's tip against her neck. Chiana leaned over his right shoulder and frowned.

"Hello, D'Argo," she said quietly as if he had just surprised her in Moya's center chamber. "I see you've been practicing your diplomacy. Now get that frelling thing away from my neck!"

"No!" he replied and pushed the blade slightly drawing a thin trickle of blood. "Not until you tell me – are you with us or with them?"

"With you, you drannit," she responded and slowly raised her hand pushing the sharp point off her neck. "And I won't ask how you got on board but only if you have that Luxan mystery ship of yours nearby. We have to move fast as I have a feeling that Grayza is finished with John. I've been ordered to the Medical Center for some sort of vaccination. That can't be good news."

"Explain to me the uniform and the marauder, then," he growled, still threatening her with his blade.

"Grayza is using me to ensure John's cooperation. I've been gone for a monen and Cholak only knows what she has been doing with him during that time. So stop your Luxan stubbornness and let's figure out a way to get him loose and off this ship." D'Argo sheathed his Qualta Blade and backed away from Aeryn. Chiana crouched down as the three friends pooled their limited information to formulate a plan.

Chapter 15

Aeryn reported as ordered to the Medical Center and was surprised to see not only her marauder's crew, but two more crews from the Icarion Company. Med techs were busy injecting each crewmate with some sort of dren. As a good soldier, you don't ask why or what, you just do. So she held out her arm like the others for her injection. The med tech seemed to look at her with pity, but she shook that image off as being ridiculous. After receiving her shot she stood to the side rubbing her arm. Hearing a commotion, she turned towards an open door. She gasped and hoped no one noticed. There were at least five medical technicians swarming around a body that looked suspiciously like John Crichton from the quick view she got. Her heart felt like it was beating in her ears and sweat broke out on her forehead at the view of that comatose body on its metal bed. Techs were monitoring tubes and needles red with his blood, but he never moved his head nor opened his eyes. She had found him, but her orders were to participate in a diplomatic envoy to Luxa. There was little time to warn D'Argo and Chiana as to his status. There was no time to breath or react to his deathly pallor and the steam that was writhing off the table.

She glanced back for a second before swallowing the nausea that choked her. She was furiously angry with herself that she had even considered abandoning John to his fate and remaining with the marauder crew. That Grayza would use John in this fashion was despicable. It was a total mystery to her why they had John lying on that slab obviously being milked for his blood while he lay all but dead. He looked dead, but she knew that Grayza would not let him die that easily. And the thought of the hezmana John was enduring burned her eyes and grabbed her gut in a knot. But now she was caught in Grayza's trap as well. They were to board their ships in an arn, enough time to quickly grab her gear and comm. D'Argo and Chiana where they hid on Lo'La. It was up to her friends to rescue John. She was going to kill Grayza slowly if she ever was given the chance.

It was ten solar days to Luxa at hetch four. Ten long days of worry and grief at what life had brought to her friend and lover as well as to herself. Ten long days of nausea as she struggled to appear normal to her crewmates. She went about her duties like an automaton. She was oblivious to the comings and goings of her crewmates and didn't notice as one by one they retired to their bunks. It was only when she was called to the bunk of the Captain and she caught sight of those awful red pustules that covered his face and the palms of his hands that she realized what Grayza had done. And they were traveling to Luxa.

He looked up at her from his bunk and point blank asked, "What do you know of this sickness? Why are you not affected?" He paused to choke and spit blood and could not help groan and clutch his chest at the effort of speaking. "Speak!" he ordered as strongly as he was able.

Aeryn stood at attention, although inside she was seething. These men and women will die. This was one more reason to give in to her savage impulses, because she knew that this illness was purposeful. It was plain to her that Grayza had infected them all with that fekkik disease from Earth. "Sir, it is called Small Pox and I am immune due to my exposure and sickness as well as my eventual cure." She saw death in his face as well as a glimmer of hope, but did not look away. To his credit, the Captain, who was fully aware of the extent of Grayza's plan but not, it seemed the entire role his crew would play in this drama, did not blink but in his look accepted full blame at his complacency in this horror.

"Officer Sun, I have never disobeyed a direct order in my life, but I find myself compelled to do so now. You are here as a hostage and I know you have never forgotten that fact. Nor have my orders as to your placement on my crew forgiven the fact that you are irresistibly contaminated and deemed a traitor. I thought I would despise you for that fact, but find myself admiring your bravery and skills as a warrior. You have been an exemplary crewmate and a credit to this ship. So, as far as Icarian Company, Pliesar Regiment is concerned, you are hereby reinstated at full rank and privileges." The Captain looked Aeryn in the eyes and continued to speak.

"Let me be completely frank. We are dying here. I have heard from the other members of the envoy and we have a 90 percent infection rate. No one knows what this dren is nor how to fight it. No one is immune except you, it seems. In addition, those that are not sick have their hands full flying and maintaining our security. I have thought long and hard on how to get us home safely and came to the realization that I have in you a perfect solution. So, I am officially turning command of this envoy over to you. Furthermore, while I still can speak, I am sending an encrypted signal to the other two marauders. We will not bring this plague to Luxa."

The Captain signaled Aeryn to come closer and stand at ease as he continued in a soft raspy voice. "In the storage hold are containers of presents from Peacekeeper Command to the government of Luxa. You must space these as they have been purposely contaminated. I had no idea that Commandant Grayza would hedge her bets by also infecting the crew." He swallowed and sat up straighter and continued, "I am officially renouncing my allegiance to the Commandant. Peacekeepers are meant to uphold the peace not further arrogant power grabs. Officer Sun, I take full responsibility. I am a good soldier and abided by the wisdom of my superiors although I knew that millions of Luxans would probably die from this farbot plan. Peace with the Scarrens is not worth the death of so many. Even if they are alien."

He lay back gasping and spitting blood from his long speech. Aeryn stood at attention and did the only thing she knew to honor his confidence. She saluted. Aeryn replied, "Sir, I might have a cure or at least a way to slow down the disease. I want you to trust me because the solution is very low tech. We need to scratch each crewman with the contents of the worst pustule on each ship. I know this sounds crazy, but this is what cured me during my illness. But we must hurry. If I can remember the prognosis, you and the other crew with the worst symptoms will not be curable if we wait too much longer."

"Do it," he whispered. "Just get my ships home."

Aeryn worked with the one or two crewmen on the other ships to ensure that every afflicted person was inoculated. It was now two weekens since they left the Carrier and she had no idea what was happening there. She hoped that D'Argo and Chiana were successful in stealing Crichton away from Grayza, but there was no way to know. She struggled to keep her mind on the mind-numbing minutiae of maintaining three marauders. Deaths from the Pox were few but her fellow shipmates were slow to return to active duty. She had ordered the marauders to land on an uninhabited world so as to conserve food and water as well as air.

She called together all able-bodied and recovering crew one morning at the beginning of the third weeken. She stood at parade rest in front of the assembled group and noted their rag-tag appearance. She would have to build up their strength and tolerance for battle to fulfill her developing plan. "We are tired, hungry, angry, and still sick, but we are true Peacekeepers," she said quietly. "We will honor the Captain's faith in me by behaving as such. My orders will seem contrary to your natures, but I want you to trust me. We are going to return to Commandant Mel-on Grayza's Carrier and we are going to destroy the Small Pox factory for the good of the Sebecean people. All those who disagree, will remain on this planet. I will make sure you are rescued, but I require full loyalty. Who is with me?"

The unanimous support was gratifying and Aeryn felt both elated and terrified of what she was about to do.

Chapter 16

Aeryn and her new lieutenants drilled their fellow commandos rebuilding their strength, stealth, and speed until they once again were a cohesive unit. During the monen of preparation Aeryn received very little information about Crichton's status, but what she did hear from new sources within the medical tech ranks as well as sympathetic Icarion Company members still stationed on the Carrier worried her greatly. John was failing, slipping off into a coma in his cold isolation. And Grayza was still manufacturing that dren from his blood. D'Argo and Chiana had lifted Lo'la off the Carrier and were secretly tracking its whereabouts closely. They stayed cloaked as long as they could and when possible bailed out to Commerce Planets to re-supply, all the while keeping track of Grayza's activities through the same inside sources as who informed Aeryn. And time ticked slowly forward with each day draining the friend's hope that they could retrieve John successfully and return him to his annoying self.

Aeryn was heartened by the growing dissatisfaction with Grayza's command. No Peacekeeper would willingly disobey the direct order of a superior, but through judicious placed rumors the story of the Luxa envoy built the sympathy she needed to succeed in her dual goals of rescuing John and ensuring that the Small Pox infection would spread no further. She had been assured that her small commando unit could pass through the corridors of Grayza's carrier without violence. She wanted to avoid harming her fellow Peacekeepers if she could help it. What happened in the Medical Center was more questionable because she did not have the sympathies of the senior medical staff, but she did know that the medical technicians, those maintaining John's life, would assist in his revival from that machine.

Then there was the problem of what would happen to her eleven fellow marauder crewmates after the success of their project (she was determined to keep a positive outlook on their chances of success). They couldn't return to the Carrier because no matter if their Captain had disavowed Grayza's orders, each member of the crew was in mutiny against a superior's orders. Peacekeepers were expected to die if so ordered without thought as to the reasons for the orders. Thinking strategically was not a job of a Peacekeeper. And here were the crews of three marauders who made a lie of this fact of Peacekeeper life. What to do?

Aeryn thought long and hard about this problem. Does she abandon this group of warriors to their fate (most likely decommissioning with extreme prejudice) and return to Moya or does she acknowledge her debt to the Peacekeepers who bred her and find them a place where they can do the most good in the universe? If she abandons them, she could not look herself in the face, such would be her dishonor as they stood by her during her time of need. But, she does have a place where these soldiers can still fight, but that means revealing the location of the renegade organization where she spent her time away from Moya, a thing she promised with her life she would not do. Frell, she didn't even tell John about this group, how could she tell complete strangers? But she would be adding to the strength of the opposition to people in High Command such as Grayza who betray the lofty goals for which Peacekeepers should stand, namely protecting the Galaxy from tyranny if she sent these commandos. Aeryn sat on the ground away from the training area and turned a leafed branch over and over in her hands. She absent-mindedly tore a leaf off the twig and tossed it on to the ground. As she watched it drift downward in the light breeze, she could see the synergy of rescuing John and adding to the safety of the Galaxy by revealing her secrets, all by setting the crew of the marauders free to join the renegades. She would tell her lieutenants the location of the secret base and give them the option of traveling there, only after they assist her in her plan.

She felt as if a huge weight had lifted from her shoulders. Cholak's knees how she hated indecision. They would leave in the morning for the Carrier. D'Argo and Chiana were rendezvousing with the marauders just outside of sensor range. Icarion Company members would arrange for a hanger to be open and clear the corridors to the Medical Center. She hoped against hope for two things, that Grayza would try to stop her and that John could be wakened and alert enough to rescue safely. She would have her revenge and John would be able to watch. Oh, did he deserve to watch.

Aeryn stood outside the Medical Center and raised her hand to silence the rustling and edgy mumbles from the five commandos who lined the walls of the corridors. The other six crewmates had gone either through the ventilation ducts or remained in the hanger to secure the doors so as to enable a swift retreat once they had performed their two-pronged goals. So far their passage through the Carrier had gone without a hitch. Perhaps it was the fact that her fellow soldiers were well known and word had spread to avoid the specific hallways. Aeryn smiled grimly at the ability of her fellow warriors to compartmentalize the underlying illegality of their behavior, bending the rules for the sake of the Company and Regiment. It seems that Crichton's subversion had spread further than just herself. They all would be "more" when this was over.

The soldiers primed their pulse rifles as Aeryn kicked open the doors to the Medical Center as she shouted "On the ground now!" at the startled medical staff. She pointed her pulse rifle at the medical technician standing with his arms spread to his side in the center of the large white room with its massive arrays of blinking and flashing machinery, tubing, and consoles. Other techs quickly dropped to the ground with their arms spread over their heads. Aeryn motioned to her fellow soldiers to search each and every person for weapons and comms. When she was satisfied as to their harmlessness, she indicated that the lead tech should show her where Crichton was resting.

The technician had secretly been alerted to Aeryn's mission and silently agreed wholeheartedly with it. The human should be freed from his prison before he died, which all monitors and tests indicated would be soon. Aeryn walked briskly up to the transparent coffin (for want for a better word) and peered in. Her face reflected in the plexiglass went white at the vision of John's frozen grimace. Tubes made sucking sounds as they snaked from the area of his femoral artery in his groin through waldos and out to strange devices. His life blood churned up through these tubes one direction and back into him the other direction to his carotid artery in his neck. The metal bed where he lay was frigid when she placed her hand at the bottom of the glass and barely touched its edge. It obviously kept Crichton frozen, preserving his body by lowering his need for breath. How the hezmana were they going to disengage this Djancaz-bru created mess from his body without killing him. And was he aware and sane?

"You, get your fellow techs, how ever many you need, and release Crichton from this device," she ordered.

"The human must be warmed up slowly or his internal organs will fail due to the ice crystals that would form once the machines are turned off," the tech responded as he motioned to four of his compatriots to stand and assist him. He looked at Aeryn and then down at the supine man in his cold tomb with pity in his eyes. "It is unknown whether the human's mind is in tact. Are you sure you wish to do this?"

"Do not question my orders, just do what you are told." She replied and pointed with her pulse rifle at the obvious console that controlled the bed. "While you are beginning the process, I want you to locate every dench of virus you have created from his blood. I want you to destroy it totally. This factory is over."

The tech actually smiled at her order. He called out to other techs to proceed to pull out the refrigerated serum containers and empty them into the waste receptacles.

Aeryn tapped on her comms. She had another goal she wished to achieve. "Commandant Mel-on Grayza," she called. "I am currently in the Medical Center with your medical technicians and my soldiers. I want you to know that you will not be using John Crichton again. And, at this moment, your plans to use human viruses to manage peace with the Scarrens is over."

Aeryn waited by the door to the Medical Center for Grayza and her security detail. She knew that her taunt would bring the Commendant. It was just a matter of when and with how much support. Aeryn's team waited both inside the room and hidden in strategic locations all along the passageways leading to the Center to waylay and delay. Aeryn was not disappointed when she was notified of the disengagement of half the guards, leaving only a remnant following on Grayza's heels. She was hoping that Grayza would be so angry that she would arrive ahead of her support contingent. Aeryn was not disappointed.

Aeryn held in her hand the last vial of virus. She had been assured by the technicians that the entire stock had been destroyed as well as the computer records for the molecular structure of that dren. If there were records elsewhere, when she was through there would be no source of raw blood available to create this scourge.

John sat contentedly with his feet dangling off the pier. He chewed on a grass stem while he watched his sisters splash and dive in the dark green waters of the lake. The orange haze of the late afternoon sun made the water glimmer. He squinted when the reflection off the water became too intense. His bare arms were freckled from the sun and reddened around his watch and where the t-shirt touched his forearms. He had grown his hair longer and its red highlights seemed to sparkle. It was just the odd light that lingered a long time this far north. He smiled and sighed.

There were gray clouds blowing from the west and a sudden chill raised goose bumps. "Girls," he called. "Better come out of there. I think a storm is coming." Damn, but his sisters never listened to him. He grabbed a handful of stones where they lay on the banks and threw them into the water. He crowed delightedly when the first one splashed Olivia in the face from where it landed directly in front of her. "Bull's-eye!"

"Johnny, that's not fair!" she cried. "You almost hit me."

"That'll teach 'ya not to ignore me," he replied. He wound up like his favorite pitcher, Don Drystale (man, would he love to have an arm like that) and let 'er rip. The stone bounced once on the water and dropped perfectly in front of Susan where she stood staring at her insane brother. The water rose up as if in slow motion, its white foaming crest touching his sister's face and he could see each individual droplet as it broke on her nose and cheeks. He heard her angry shriek as if through a tunnel. He dropped abruptly down on his rear end and toppled backwards to lie sprawled on the beach, half in and half out of the lake where it lapped. He tried with all his might to rebuild his sister's faces but they were fading as the red light of the sun was darkened by the angry clouds.

"Officer Sun, he seems to be aware but unable to speak or even open his eyes. He is thoroughly paralyzed by the cryogenic drugs in his system. We have flushed it out, but it will take time to determine his physical status." the medical technician said as he inserted another ampoule of some drug into Crichton's neck. "His vital signs are low but getting stronger. He seems to be fighting coming to complete consciousness, based on his rapid eye movements."

Aeryn ignored the technician's report, although she longed to go running across the room and somehow magically (when did she ever believe such dren, but somehow miracles seem appropriate to Crichton) awaken him and tell him everything would be all better. She had no more time to contemplate the situation because Grayza was throwing open the door. Aeryn leaned her arm back and tossed the vial of Small Pox at the Commandant's face. The vial exploded on impact, lacerating the woman's face and spilling the virus into her mouth and nose as it dripped from her forehead to her chin. Grayza tottered back in shock and blindly struck out with her fists and feet hoping to incapacitate her assailant. As a result she was severely off balanced and missed blocking Aeryn's Pantak Jab. Grayza dropped like a stone. From there the mop up operation of herding her guards into a closet and locking them inside as well as strapping Grayza to a medical bed was rapidly performed.

Aeryn now stood watching helplessly as the technicians struggled to regulate Crichton's heart rate and breathing. He had lost much blood and was only able to move his fingers and toes slightly at this point. She grasped his hand and felt the weak pulse at his wrist. He still hadn't opened his eyes. "Come back to me, John," she whispered and then stated more loudly, "John, you are safe now. Please come back."

John lay on the shoreline and struggled to breath. "No!," he gasped. He wouldn't go back. He couldn't face the pain and the helpless rise of his libido. He shook his head as the pier and lake slowly faded away from his awareness. He squeezed shut his eyes and tried to restore the voices of Olivia and Susan. "John," he heard it, hadn't he? Was that Olivia's voice? No, it was lower-timbered and had a smoky quality that could only be Aeryn's. "Aer-," he forced through lips stiff and numb. "Aer-yn!" he tried again and this time was rewarded with a feeling of pressure on his right hand. He could actually feel it and man it hurt like a bitch. But it was a clean pain and one that he welcomed. He tried to turn his head and succeeded in a slight motion. He smiled and was also able to peek at his kick-ass warrior through still heavily-lidded eyes. Everything was foggy and distorted, but she was real. "Aeryn," he breathed and was able to wiggle his toes. He let out a sigh.

Several arns later, John had been moved to a bed and lay propped up by pillows and wrapped in warming blankets. He was exhausted and weak but alert. He glanced across the medical center at the circle of men and women in their red and black leathers and ready positions. He then looked up at Aeryn, and quietly said, "Done well for yourself, I see." He smiled and closed his eyes.

Just then he heard a cursing hiss from the bed next to his. Grayza was waking up and discovering her bindings were unbreakable. "What's the matter, Mata Hari? Or should I call you Typhoid Mary?" John said. "Looks like you are going to get a taste of your own medicine. And I have a feeling that those soldiers over there are going to make sure that you have no one to help you during the next ten solar days it takes for you to die. Let me tell you what you will be feeling so you don't have to anticipate it, okay. Well, first you are going to feel chilled and pains in those fingers and toes of yours that spend so much time mired in your muck. Next your lovely mouth and that active tongue are going to erupt with blisters that will break and feel like spikes have been driven into your cheeks. Then the fun stuff happens as you puke up your insides and spit blood. And don't think anyone is going to collect that stuff to continue your wonderful experiments in Galactic détente. Because I've heard that Braca has made you persona non-gratis. So, not only are you going to sit there and steam and bleed and puss all by your lonesome, but you'll be facing a court martial as well. I imagine that the Living Death will seem like a party compared to what you'll face. And I'll be laughing." John panted as he swallowed. He called to Aeryn, "Help me up, will 'ya. Isn't it time we got back to Moya? When's our taxi arriving?"

Aeryn said nothing during John's declaration because she could think of no one who deserved to lecture more than John and nothing to say that could add to his declaration. She smiled at John and his stubborn refusal to break and gruffly pulled him to an upright position and then helped him swing his feet on to the side of the bed. "Weak, deficient body," she stated playfully, but his look said he understood what she really meant. Although he was weak and still paralyzed and numb but also full of the intense prickly feelings that spoke of the neural agony to come, he smiled as he wrapped his arms around Aeryn and one of her lieutenants. They pulled him up and he looked back at Grayza's face. She was practically apoplectic where she sat in that bed. It was a grim smile that changed into a full born grin as he whispered to Aeryn, "Let's go home."

The End

46


End file.
